A/N - Hello to all! I couldn't help myself, I just love BNHA so much. I make no apologies. I plan to make this a long fic, so buckle up :) Just a side note - I'll use the Japanese style speech (that includes introductions of last names first, honorifics, etc etc) as I write interactions and dialogue. I also don't have a beta for any of my work, so apologies in advance for spelling/grammar mistakes.

Let me know what you think!

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She remembered it clearly, the day she realized her dream.

She remembered a sunny day, with the birds chirping merrily in the trees outside her kindergarten classroom, filling the air with light and dainty notes. She remembered her body shaking in nervous and excited anticipation as she waited for her teacher to give her a turn to speak.

'What do you want to be when you grow up?'

It was a question that was easy enough to answer for most children, and one that was asked quite often of them and usually accompanied with the pinching of cheeks or a slight ruffling of the hair in endearment. Most children changed their answer every few weeks, repeating their desired profession aloud as their whims changed from day to day and week to week.

But some children reflected deeply upon this question. Some children were certain from the beginning of what they wanted to do with their lives, of how they would leave their mark upon the world.

Tanaka Miya was one of those children. She had always been a serious child.

Her palms were sweaty that day, her hands rubbing themselves raw as she waited for the teacher to call her name. She remembered the other answers her classmates had given.

"A ballerina!"

"A firefighter!"

"A nurse!"

"An actor!"

The question was one she was sure she knew the answer to, one that she knew she wanted more than anything. Her four-year-old body had quaked when the teacher asked her, but she had stood boldly in front of her classmates to boldly answer the question.

"And what about you, Miya-chan? What do you want to be when you grow up?"

She had answered without hesitation, brown eyes sparkling in determination.

"I want to be a hero."

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Mahnaz Tanaka-Khorasani grew up under the care of her grandfather in a respectable and perfectly ordinary neighborhood of Tokyo.

Her grandfather, Tanaka Junichi, was a quirkless old man who had grown quite bitter in his older age, and the man held a great deal of resentment towards quirks the genetic mutations and the powers that had manifested in the human race because of it.

Junichi had been born in a generation when being quirkless meant you were part of the majority, even if it hadn't lasted long. He was old enough to remember when things were still somewhat calm and quiet. When he was growing up, there were fewer quirks and fewer odd bodily mutations, when the extraordinary had yet to become ordinary.

Quirks had been around a while, of course, but those that survived of his generation had certainly seen the shifting of demographics over the last century, until quirks had become almost completely manifested into society, rather than being a little more sporadic as they had been almost a century ago.

And he hated it. He hated everything about it.

Quirks and people with quirks had changed everything, and changed it for the worse.

He hated the foreign female doctor from Iran with the healing quirk that his son had fallen in love with and married, despite Junichi forbidding him to do so. He hated that his son and daughter-in-law weren't normal like he was, that they were infected with the same sickness that the rest of their society was these days. He hated the villain who had used a destructive quirk to derail the train that his son Hayato rode every morning to his job at the hospital. His son had died that day, leaving behind his infant daughter and wife.

Quirks had torn his family apart. Quirks had killed his son.

Quirks were the reason that governments became greedy and fought with each other. Laleh Khorasani, the woman his son had married, had a quirk that the Iranian government deemed useful to their country. The embassy had recalled her visa shortly after the death of her husband. The Japanese government, unwilling to risk political tensions, had separated a mother from her daughter and deported the woman back to her native country, leaving Junichi to raise his granddaughter alone.

Not that Junichi really minded.

The girl was all he had left of his son Hayato, and he had always hated her mother, Laleh. He was glad to see her gone.

He had even re-registered her name as just Miya Tanaka, erasing the evidence of her Persian name given to her by a Persian mother, who he blamed alongside quirks for all the tragedies that had rocked his world and left him bitter and all alone. She would be raised Japanese, and that was final. What kind of name was Mahnaz, anyway? He supposed he was doing her a favor by changing it to something that would fit in better.

And so, Mahnaz Tanaka-Khorasani became Miya Tanaka.

The first time that Miya ever asked about her parents as a young child, he'd lied. He'd told her they both died on a train, killed by an evil villain. It was better that way, he supposed.

Miya grew up raised by a bitter grandfather, though he loved her underneath that harsh exterior. He was angry at the world and heartbroken, but he loved her all the same. She reminded him so much of his late son. She was sweet and innocent, and it had been his deepest hope that she would never inherit any quirks from her parents.

His hope was dashed the day she came home from school with the announcement that she had finally gotten her quirk.

He was crestfallen, and even more so when she announced that she wanted to be a hero immediately after showing him the regenerative abilities of her newly found quirk. He had grounded her for a week after she had made that statement, and she had been smart enough not to bring it up again with him after seeing how upset she had made him. But he could tell that she was determined to use her quirk for good, so very much like her father.

Over the years, as Miya matured, he did his best to stamp out the interest in heroics that his granddaughter held in her heart.

He tried to steer her over the years, as she grew into a lovely young woman. He would die before he let her go to UA like she wanted, he would dig his own grave before he saw his precious granddaughter become a hero like she always dreamed of. It was better to be a doctor, just like her father. A noble profession, not like those ruffians who ran around chasing danger.

No, she would be a doctor like her parents were. They never spoke of heroes, but of the paths that she could take instead. He pushed hard, giving it his all in the hopes she would just give up that silly dream.

'What about medical school? Your father would have been so proud of you if you chose to become a doctor like he was. It's better this way.'

'UA? Forget about it. It's better if you study medicine, and you've already been accepted to the best medical high school that the country has! What more could you want? It's better this way.'

'Look, I brought you a new plant for your collection. Aren't plants much more interesting than those dumb manga novels about heroes that you like? It's better this way.'

'Your parents were killed by a villain who hates heroes and people who do good. You want to make them proud? Carry on their legacy, become a doctor! It's better this way.'

He'd filled her head with statements like that over the years, as she grew up.

He thought he'd succeeded in his mission until the day a letter arrived from UA addressed to Miya.

She had taken the entrance exams behind his back, and she had failed. Apparently, a healing quirk had not been suited to the combative nature of the exams, and she had not scored enough points to be admitted.

He had been both furious and overjoyed at the same time: angry that she had hidden this from him and happy that her dreams were now at an end. Now that this little fanciful dream had ended, she could focus on becoming a doctor like she was supposed to.

They moved from Tokyo to Musutafu, and Miya had started school at the Hamada Private Academy for Medicine a month later, the most prestigious medically-geared high school in all of Japan.

She went on to graduate at the top of her class, to no surprise of her peers or grandfather. Within a few years of graduating high school, she had aced her board exams after medical school and landed a residency in the best hospital of Musutafu.

Miya settled into the role her grandfather had forced her in and never mentioned her dreams again.

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Recovery girl was retiring.

Aizawa Shota could not say he was surprised, though he suspected the ancient woman would still outlive them all one day. It was a retirement that was well earned and well deserved in his opinion.

She had announced it in their monthly staff meeting just hours ago, and Nezu had asked all teachers to submit any recommendations for replacements before they listed the job publicly. At first, he thought it best to remain silent, to not voice any opinions on who should be her successor because he could honestly say he did not have anyone in mind.

But something was bothering him, a nagging feeling in the back of his head that just wouldn't let him rest. It wasn't long before he remembered the girl.

It had been his first year as a new teacher at UA, and the first time he had ever sat in on an entrance exam to help decide who should gain admittance and who should be rejected. It was also the first time he realized just how unfair their entrance exam was to those who didn't have offense-based quirks.

He remembered her vividly, recalling to mind the image of the blue-haired girl with a powerful healing quirk, who had been automatically rejected because she had not scored many points.

That flash of memory and subtle hunch was what brought him to where he currently sat: in the computer archives room, scrolling through clips and videos of an entrance exam that had taken place years ago. But he never forgot a face, and he remembered the look she had sported when she realized that her time was up and she hadn't taken out a single target.

Instead, she had spent the time-limit healing her fellow peers of any injury they had received during the practical exam in the hope that her effort would be noticed. It was not noticed, at least not by those who made the decision on who to accept into the program.

But Aizawa noticed.

His bloodshot eyes narrowed somewhat when he finally found the electronic file he was looking for. It had taken a while for him to find her, and his eyes were strained from the bright computer screen in a dimly lit room, but he had found her.

He scrutinized every bit of her rejected file.

He looked past a face that society would probably deem as pretty and went straight for the information archived on her quirk.

Name: Tanaka, Miya.

Quirk: "Regeneration". Ability to regenerate any organic life matter. Shows extreme proficiency in healing abilities and an affinity towards nature.

Status: Rejected.

His frown tightened on his face. Yet another promising candidate screwed over by a faulty exam that failed to shine light on different quirks with potential. She was one of many who could have been a hero, but had not been given a fair chance.

She hadn't missed a single question on her written exams, but the practical she had immediately failed.

He opened a tab on the internet browser, the search bar waiting instructions and blinking expectantly at him. His fingers moved with ease, typing out her name to see what had happened to her after she was rejected.

The information was surprisingly easy to find, mostly due to the fact that she had stayed in Musutafu and made quite a name for herself in the medical world.

The list of published articles on her research projects and trials were seemingly endless, as were the awards she had won from the medical and scientific community, despite being in her mid-twenties. It was clear the woman was intelligent.

She was currently leading the movement towards more in-depth studies that revolved around using regenerative quirks like hers to help re-grow organs for those who needed transplants. She was also working to study the advancement of skin-grafting with the use of her quirk and quirks like it. Miya Tanaka was a pioneer in this field of research, and had been given much funding to carry it out.

That was no good.

A heavily funded woman would be hard to convince to quit her job. UA could only offer her a provisional hero's license, a bunch of bratty kids, and a salary much lower than what she most likely already had. She would be a fool to take the position if it was offered to her, there was nothing that she would gain from it.

He took another long look at the picture attached to her most recently published article on epidermal regeneration, taking in her appearance and how the eight or nine years since she failed her entrance exams had changed her.

Her blue hair was swept up into a low bun, making it hard to tell how long it was. Everything about her was neat and orderly, not a hair out of place. Her doctor's coat was a pristine white, and her business attire beneath the coat was freshly pressed and wrinkle free. Olive-toned skin, rounder eyes, and sharp facial features indicated that perhaps she was not pure Japanese.

She was no longer the gawky, awkward and unsure looking teen that she had been in her application photo. She looked like she meant business now, and she held herself with a strict and serious air.

Her eyes, however, sparkled in a way that her neat and perfect appearance could not hide. Those were the eyes of someone who was looking for more, he was sure of it. They were the eyes of a woman who was aspiring to something else. He had seen the look on many would-be heroes before. With just a look into those eyes of hers, something told him it was worth a shot.

And so, the next morning he handed over his formal recommendation and the information he had gathered on her to Nezu, who agreed immediately that she would make a good candidate for the position. She was, as he had relayed, the most qualified candidate that had been submitted based on recommendation so far.

A letter was sent to her home address, an apartment in the middle-class area of the city, with an invitation to come interview for the job.

They received no reply.

A second letter was sent.

No reply.

A phone call was made.

The old man on the other end hung up as soon as he heard the words "UA".

The decision was then made then to send Aizawa instead, since it had been he who recommended her in the first place, which he had accepted his role in begrudgingly.

It seemed as though the woman was intent not to respond to their interview invitation, and he was content to let her be if that was what she wanted. He didn't really care one way or the other, but Nezu was insistent that she must come, so he was sent to go and speak to her personally.

He fought the internal urge to grumble as he ascended the staircase that led to her apartment. This woman was turning out to be a pain, and he would much rather be spending his Friday evening catching up on sleep and tackling the mountain of untouched papers in his living room that needed grading instead of being sent on a witch hunt.

But here he was, slouching outside of an apartment of a pretty young woman and knocking on the door, all the while longing for the comfort of home and a bed that was calling his name.

It took three knocks before the door opened and Aizawa was met with the image of an ancient old man who was dressed as though the passing of time had not affected him at all. With old-fashioned trousers and suspenders, and a head shaved like the Japanese soldiers in the second world war, he looked like he had stepped out of a history book.

"What do you want?" The old man wheezed at him, eyeing the bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothing in suspicion.

"Is this the residence of Miya Tanaka?" He droned, monotonous voice low as he asked after the elusive woman.

The old geezer eyed him up and down, clearly unimpressed.

"She only works at the clinic for the homeless on Thursdays, wait until next week and don't bother her at home." He sniffed, before attempting to close the door.

Aizawa felt his eye twitch. He was a patient man, but it only stretched so far. He had taken a train ride in the middle of rush hour, and spent forty minutes pressed like a sardine in the train car in order to get here. He hated rush hour. He also hated people in excess. In fact, he had a habit of taking the early morning train and the late night train to and from work, just to avoid all the noisy people.

He was about to reach out to stop the old man from closing his door, but the very person he was looking for beat him to it.

"Don't be rude, 'Jii-chan." A soft voiced scolded, opening the door back up as the cranky old man retreated into the apartment with a few grumbles. "Can I help you? The homeless clinic was yesterday, but I can take a look over now if it's an emergency."

Once again ignoring the unintentional insult, he studied the woman in front of him.

She was dressed casually, very unlike the internet picture he had found of her. Her blue hair was thrown up into a messy top knot, and she was dressed in short athletic shorts and a baggy t-shirt. Her feet were graced with fuzzy socks that didn't match in pattern or color.

His face betrayed no emotion as he replied, ignoring both of their assumptions that he was a poor, homeless man in search of medical treatment.

"Miya Tanaka." He said, and she frowned as he spoke, correcting him before he could continue.

"It's Dr. Tanaka." She corrected with a small frown.

"Dr. Tanaka." He reiterated, ready to just say what he had to say so he could leave. "I'm Aizawa Shota, and I'm here on behalf of UA Academy to offer you an invitation to interview for the position of medical director. I was sent when you failed to reply to the phone calls and letters."

Her eyes widened substantially, brown irises conveying a sense of shock that surprised him as well. They had been thorough in their attempts to reach the young woman, had she truly not received any contact from the school?

Suddenly, her expression changed to one of exasperation. She glanced back into her apartment in disdain before meeting his gaze with an apologetic look.

"I see. I apologize for the inconvenience. I'm willing to bet it was my grandfather who made sure I didn't hear from you. He's not the biggest fan of your institution."

"Ah." Was his one-syllable acknowledgement. He didn't have anything he felt like adding. She continued.

"But I'm afraid you're mistaken. I'm not licensed to use my quirk outside of a medical setting, I wouldn't be able to use it outside the hospital. I'm not a hero, just a doctor." She went on, as if he didn't already know.

"The first few months would be used as an internship of sorts." He explained, hoping to keep things short and simple so that he could get home and sleep. "Recovery Girl has announced her retirement, but she would stay to train her replacement. You would receive training to be able to apply for your provisional hero's license."

Her mouth dropped, though she quickly snapped it shut.

And then, it was there. For a brief moment, he had seen the smallest flash of excitement in her eyes, which meant that he had been correct in his original assumption. He watched the way her breath hitched in her throat and her fingers twitched.

She did want more. His assumption had been correct.

"You…want me to work at UA." She parroted back to him, summing up his words in a simple sentence.

He did not respond, he had already stated as such and it would be illogical to waste his breath to repeat himself. She was smart, and he knew she had heard him well enough.

An awkward silence stretched in between them, as she stood in her doorway and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

"Why?" She finally asked.

"I was there when you failed. I saw what you're capable of. It was my first year as a teacher." He informed quietly, though he was not sure what possessed him to tell her this. "I personally recommended you for the position."

He had recommended her based on what he remembered and what he had seen from the video recordings and what he had seen of her research and accomplishments since then. He had been impressed, he could not deny it. And he knew potential when he saw it.

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

"Why?" She demanded again, searching his face for any sign of deceit or ulterior motives. His features remained blank. "You don't even know me. I could be a bad fit, what makes you think I'm capable? Why would you have faith in someone you've never met?"

It was a good question, and it was one that had a simple answer, though he chose not to answer her at all. He had done his part and didn't see the need to stick around any longer.

He shrugged instead of replying, and began his walk back towards the stairs, leaving her gaping like a fish behind him. He had come to say what he was sent for and could now go home to work on lesson plans and sleep. The rest was up to her.

But he had a feeling that she would choose to come for the interview. With her credentials and that quirk the job was already hers, the interview was only a formality, though she didn't need to know that.

She would come, he was sure of it. He'd seen the look in her eyes that gleamed at the opportunity to be something greater than "just a doctor", as she had described herself.

He didn't turn back to look at her as he spoke his last statement, casually starting down the stairs.

"Prove me wrong then."