Notes:

I see lots of fics in this fandom where (in order to make a student/character seem to be smarter than the teachers/Nedzu) there is this moment a character criticizes the entrance exams. It got real annoying real fast, cause it's used so often. I like to try and reason through why certain things would make sense the way they are presented in cannon. You actually have to think hard about justifying the exams, while complaining about them is far too easy (especially since fic writers almost never offer up a way to improve/fix the exams).

I also love the idea of Nedzu (yes, I'm using the incorrect spelling) being a manipulative little genius.

:]

To many, it could be considered strange to see your math (and occasionally strategy) teacher advance to the position of principal. Especially when said teacher falls short of being even three feet tall; and is of an entirely different species; AND said position is for the most renowned hero school in the entire world.

The concept draws many criticisms from the media and public.

Oddly enough, the students and staff alike are more surprised it took so long for Nedzu take control of the school. In fact, there was talk of his promotion from the very day he first stepped onto campus.

With that quirk of his, anything is possible.

Everyone in UA cheered as his promotion for the following school year was announced. Many even found the time to personally congratulate him.

….And that's how Aizawa finds himself chatting with Nedzu the day before graduation over a cup of tea.

He never planned for a long visit. He simply was unfortunate enough to be the last one heading out the door when he mumbled a few well wishes to his teacher… Only to have said teacher climb up to perch on his shoulder and offer him tea.

It's not so bad. Just inconvenient.

"At least the media will find something new to complain about soon enough. They always do." The tired teen huffed, setting his now empty cup down on the desk.

With that oddly unreadable face of his, Nedzu shakes his head, "I'm afraid it will return with even more vigor, after I announce a few of the changes I have planned for this place. Some of which are quite extensive enough to keep me busy all summer."

"Such as?"

"The entrance exams. They're abysmal to say the least and hardly efficient."

Now THAT is something Aizawa can find himself nodding along to. It's too easy for people with little to no potential to pass through (and wind up getting ahead of themselves just to find their way into an early grave) in his opinion.

Aizawa thanks Nedzu for the tea, and leaves knowing UA has never been in more capable hands.

…Something he second guesses upon hearing the uproar at the beginning of the next school year.

He's been an underground Hero for less than a single summer. He was a high school student only a handful of months ago. He had been learning about standard math equations from the smartest being he knew.

But just the few changes brought to light make him second guess that little chat they had the day before his graduation.

It's safe to say, his confidence in the principal is under pressure as he tries to makes sense of Nedzu's little speech about the new entrance exam. The rodent had kept everything brief and straightforward, not bothering to answer a single one of the hundreds of questions that immediately followed.

After his third time through the video clip, he simply shakes his head and opts to avoid tv for the rest of the week.

He can feel a headache coming on as he reads the letter addressed to him from UA's principal.

A teaching position. Nedzu wants HIM to be a teacher.

The rodent must have lost his mind, or this is just some cruel joke to torment a human (as the rodent is known to occasionally indulge in, given his past).

With a heavy sigh, Aizawa clears his schedule for the suggested day for them to meet.

He has just enough dignity to show up, yet all the intent to shoot down the offer the moment he gets there.

It feels like déjà vu…. Sitting across from Nedzu… Occasionally sipping on some tea.

Except they're in the Principal's office and the seats offer more comfort… And tension fills the air as Nedzu skillfully dances around Aizawa's initial rejection.

"You no doubt have plenty of heroes vying to teach here. Many of whom have more experience than myself-"

"You'd be surprised. Plenty of heroes view my changes in school policy to be too extreme. Not that it matters since UA no longer accepts work applications. All staff are handpicked by me in order to ensure maximum efficiency and top results." The principal says with a soft smile.

He's obviously improved in emoting these past years. Probably for better interaction with the press that's constantly breathing down his neck and the students.

His reasoning, however, is lost on Shouta given that Nedzu is intent on HIM being a teacher.

The underground hero decides it would be useless to question it. That's gotten him nowhere so far. Instead, he decides to steer their conversation in another direction. Give himself time to think up a better argument.

"Must be difficult to maintain UA's reputation." He mutters.

At least, as far as Aizawa is informed, this is still the highest ranked school for heroes-

"Hardly." Nedzu's voice takes on that edge of sadistic glee that never fails to send a shiver down Shouta's spine. "With UA's current stats, it's title may as well be uncontested."

"I regret to admit that I haven't been keeping up with the news around UA." He really doesn't.

He found himself avoiding the subject if anything. The two completely contradictory changes he DID hear about had instilled a sizable enough seed of doubt for him to loose interest in the gossip pertaining to his old high school.

What was the point of lifting the quirkless ban if the entrance exam now included an elaborate field test favoring combative quirks?

Nedzu tilts his head curiously.

"Strange. You seemed interested when last we spoke."

Aizawa's begun to fidget with his cup. "Tell me about everything that's changed since then. Since I graduated." This should keep the principal talking while he thinks up a way to leave this office with some of his dignity intact.

A smile returns to the oversized rodent's face.

"My first decision as principal was to amend the rule against quirkless students. It was an outdated rule that served no purpose."

"Then why change the exam to favor combative quirks? It seems contradictory."

Shit. Did he say that out loud?

Nedzu's smile looks absolutely sinister. Aizawa preferred it when the creature's face was unreadable.

"I knew you had been interested." The little mammal teases, refilling their cups with a lightly spiced tea. "In this day and age, people are not born equal. It's impossible to create an exam that does not favor some quirk over another. Best I can do is grant everybody the choice to try and prove themselves. Which, of course, means there can be no discriminatory rules. Hence, repealing the quirkless ban."

Fine. So maybe it's not as contradictory as Shouta had thought, but still...

"Your exam still places those with invaluable yet non-combative quirks beneath amateur fighters. People like Recovery Girl are as good as quirkless in battle."

Especially if it's true that the principal decided to use giant robots as faux villains.

"I believe I should expound on all the finer details of the entrance exam. It's less centered around combat than you'd think." Nedzu insists with a cheerful wink (that he no doubt picked up from being around cheesy teenagers all the time) "But first, if you wouldn't mind, please tell me why we have heroes. Why are they not simply apart of the police force?"

Aizawa was hoping it to be rhetorical but, given the intense gaze of the genius rodent, it's probably not.

The man sighs, "The police function as a unit. Heroes are the equivalent of freelancers. It's simply a different form of law enforcement. Both have their own advantages that make up for the other's shortcomings."

"True, but that is not WHY." The principal says, "Heroes are, simply put, therapeutic to the public in a way the police are not. When quirks were first beginning to manifest, the crime rate skyrocketed across every country. Quirks made common criminals into indomitable villains. Everyone knows that the opposite of a villain is a hero. Heroes are fantastical and inspiring in a way that deters villains and gives hope to the everyday citizen… You are aware of the statistics involving All Might's debut, I presume."

Of course he was. The crime rate in Japan dropped to record lows unmatched anywhere else. The statistics and his debut were a hot topic for over a full year, making it just about impossible to have not heard and seen and talked about them.

Aizawa responds with a slight nod, hoping for the quirked animal to get on with his point. His original goal to buy for time forgotten.

"I accepted the position of principal with a goal to mold the most deserving of teenagers into the best of heroes. Heroes that can and will serve the public with both action as well as influence. That would be difficult if our students are incapable of confronting a villain." Nedzu explains, turning his chair so he can glance out the window overlooking the school. "The entrance exam consists of two tests. The written test ensures our students will have enough tact to be more than simple brutes that lucked out on their quirk. The second, practical test, is set up to allow the school staff and a group of carefully selected judges to observe the examinees' quirks in action. It is this second test that most find controversial."

"Do you actually use robots?"

"They're necessary. Holding something as simple as a quirk demonstration or an obstacle course, as most other hero academies tend to do, almost never reveals true hero potential. The examinees need to be capable of handling the stress of an active battlefield. I would use our own teachers instead of robots if I could. However, the sheer amount of complaints and phony lawsuits we would receive, should an examinee be injured by a pro-hero, makes that hardly worth consideration. Besides, the kids won't be as reluctant to use their quirks to their fullest when their target is an inanimate object."

True, however…

"Many quirks are ineffective against machinery, such as my own." Aizawa says before taking a sip of his tea.

"Do you mean to imply that you could not pass my current exam?"

It takes a great deal more effort than the man is willing to admit not to spit up his drink. He carefully swallows and sets his cup down.

The man says in a stilted voice, "Now, after enough training and practice, I am more than capable. As a young teenager, possibly not."

Even as the words leave his mouth, they sound wrong. His biggest issue with UA during his teen years had been how easy it had been for people (lacking true potential) to enter the hero course. People that could not handle the stress or could not survive any significant amount of time as an active hero.

If someone is born with a mediocre or non-combative quirk, they'll need to work harder, like he himself did.

None of the successful heroes rely solely on a single trick.

The principal taps at the desk, pulling Shouta from his thoughts.

"This is the top school for aspiring heroes. We have the most applicants every year." Nedzu explains, "To make the tests easier would end in an overabundance of potential students to sort through. I created these tests to be harder than any other hero school in order to guarantee only the best and most deserving examinees become our students."

"Of course." Aizawa had thought the original exams had been too easy. It's just… "That still means you will miss people with purely defensive or supportive quirks in favor of combative quirks."

Quirks more suited for underground heroes or for directly aiding victims could be lost to mediocre schools.

"Not necessarily. Villain points may favor combative quirks and are the objective we give to the examinees, but far more rewarding are rescue points." The quirked animal says cheerfully.

"Rescue points?"

"Heroes should prioritize saving lives over apprehending villains. For us to ignore those willing to save and/or aid another examinee, instead of focusing on gaining points from the faux villains, would make for a school unfit to teach heroics. Wouldn't you agree?" the rodent pauses, waiting for the human to show some sign of affirmation before continuing. "And if all else fails, I've opened up a limited recommendations program. Pro-heroes are allowed to recommend potential students that I may accept or dismiss at my own discretion. This has been how most of UA's more uniquely quirked individuals have been enrolled during the last few years."

Seems he did think things through.

"You really are the smartest person in any given room." Aizawa mumbles, reaching out for his tea cup.

"Which is why you're accepting my job offer!"

Shit.

He spilt.

So much for being dignified.

If Nedzu is going to be so blatantly manipulative and intent in trying to get Aizawa to be a teacher, then he best be prepared. The underground hero refuses to play polite if he end's up sticking around to babysit a classroom of teens for any extended period of time.

Shouta wipes up the mess with his sleeve, glaring at the principal all the while.

"I have conditions." He warns.

"Such as..?"

"I will not tolerate students of insufficient potential-"

"Indeed. Which is why I allow my teachers to expel students without collaborating with me first."

The oversized rodent looks positively smug, leaving Aizawa to grasp at straws.

"Is there coffee in the teachers' lounge?"

Aizawa is still going to continue being a hero and go on a nightly patrol whenever possible. Between that and traching, he'll need the caffeine.

The underground hero takes some pleasure out of seeing Nedzu shudder and take a lengthy sip of his tea.

"Unfortunately."

"I'm bringing a sleeping bag."

The two have locked eyes.

The human blinks first.

"I knew you would see things my way." His new boss says, offering a paw to shake. "Welcome back!"

Notes: I hope this made at least a little bit of sense.

Aizawa may have been a bit out of character, but I wanted to use him since he is often the character that fic writers have criticizing the exams.