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 chirped 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 her turn to speak.
Her palms were sweaty, 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 without fear 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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Miya's quirk was one that she had inherited from her late father, and it had manifested itself on her first day of second grade. She had been overjoyed at the fact.
There weren't many things she remembered about her father, but his quirk was one of them. In a way, it felt as though he was near to her, now more than ever. She felt special to have been blessed with the same ability as he had, and she was now one step closer to achieving her dream.
Her grandfather and guardian, Junichi, had been less than pleased.
Tanaka Junichi was born quirkless in a generation when that had been a bit more normal, and he was old enough to remember the days when society was calmer and quieter. When he was growing up there were far less cases of quirks than there were today. Quirks had appeared nearly three hundred years ago, and now, as he was pushing ninety years of age, he had lived in the last third of society's rapid mutation.
Quirks had gone from small cases here and there for the first century or so after their discovery, to an explosion of genetic mutations and 'special abilities' in the early nineteen hundreds. And he had been born early enough to watch as society went through the most aggressive part of that change from ordinary into what people now dubbed as extraordinary.
He, however, didn't think there was anything extraordinary about it.
Over the many years of his life he had watched as society mutated further and further from the plain and normal life both he and his ancestors had lived in rural Japan. And now, as an elderly man, he consistently found himself longing for a time long forgotten and one he had never truly experienced; a simpler era, when all they'd had to worry about were the family's crops and a few strange stories in the newspaper talking about heroes and villains and the rise of 'special abilities' being discovered in young children.
Times had certainly changed since the generation of his parents and grandparents, and he hated it.
He was quirkless, and darn proud of it. He was angered to see what society had become; it was strange to him, and he found it innately unnatural in a way that perturbed him deeply. He was proud to consider himself what remained of 'normal', even if he was now considered the one who was abnormal.
He had married his quirkless wife, Kiyoko, in an arranged marriage in 1938. They lived happily for a few years, surviving the aftermath of a war that tore their world apart with the joy that having their firstborn son brought. They had two other children subsequently, but none lived past infancy.
Their son, Hayato, had been his pride and joy – up until the day he turned four.
The day of Hayato's fourth birthday the boy had fallen from the stairs and scraped his knee. As if it was somehow natural to the young boy, he did not cry. He only calmly placed a hand over the cut on his knee, and his parents had watched in a strange mix of horror and fascination as the wounded skin knit itself back together while the child's hands glowed a strange, ethereal blue.
In only a few seconds, the boy had healed his injury completely, and then looked to his parents to ask if he could go play outside with the other children.
Tanaka Hayato had a quirk that allowed him to regenerate the molecular structure of external organic life matter, which allowed him to heal external injuries on both himself and on other persons.
He could will a wound to close itself, he could stop bleeding with a simple touch, and he could return any wound on the surface of the skin back to unblemished flesh. He could even heal the warped skin of burn victims.
It was only natural, then, that the boy would one day become a doctor.
Junichi was severely disappointed that his son was not 'normal' like he and his wife, but the more they watched the news, the more they realized that those without quirks were the ones who were no longer normal in this strange new world they were still transitioning into.
Hayato lived happily, despite the disdain of his father, and was determined to use his quirk for the good of mankind. He entered into a medical school in Tokyo when he was eighteen, and fell in love with a foreign woman who he would eventually marry there.
All the way from a city called Shiraz in Iran, Laleh Khorasani was studying medicine in Tokyo on a scholarship that her quirk had awarded her. With a quirk that allowed her to help generate growth in plants and humans, she had been awarded a generous scholarship that covered all her living and schooling expenses while she studied in Japan. She had been assigned a government research grant to help medical research teams see if it was possible to use regenerative quirks in the field of internal medicine.
The two had fallen in love instantly, and had married just months later, despite the protests from both their families. Laleh was supposed to have married a man in her home city that her parents had picked for her, and Junichi and Kiyoko didn't quite like the idea of having a foreigner who could hardly speak Japanese as a daughter-in-law.
But they had married anyways. The traditional Shinto ceremony was small and private. Laleh's parents did not come.
It was not long after that Laleh was disowned from her own family for marring outside of their culture and religion when they had their daughter.
Their union had brought their daughter, Miya Mahnaz Tanaka, into their world of heroes and villains.
Despite Junichi's dislike of Laleh, he adored their daughter, his granddaughter. She was a lovely mix of two cultures in one child, and a happy baby that reminded him of the good in life.
The child had inherited a deep Persian blue hair color and tan skin from her mother; but her delicate bone structure, slanted brown eyes, and facial features were inherently Japanese and obviously from her father. She had his eyes, which had always radiated warmth and happiness no matter the circumstance.
The first few years were happy, but their fates were destined for tragedy.
Only two years into their marriage, Hayato was killed when a villain derailed the train he took every morning on his commute. Because their marriage had only been a short religious ceremony, and not officiated by the government, Laleh was deported when her work visa expired.
Political tensions had caused for the officials of her home country to recall all citizens working with other governments back home, and Laleh had been unable to avoid being extradited back to Iran. Unsure of what conditions her daughter might face back home with a mother who had been widowed and disowned, in a city where her family had lived in poverty, she made the heartbreaking decision to leave her daughter behind with Kiyoko and Junichi in the hope that Miya might have a better future in Japan.
The tragedy of death and ripping a family apart was felt deeply by all, but it was not the end.
Kiyoko died of a stroke just days after Laleh was forced, screaming and kicking, on a plane that would deliver her back to Tehran, Iran. The sadness of losing her son and seeing her daughter-in-law deported had been too much.
And then it was just Junichi left to raise his granddaughter alone. Tragedy had befallen their household, and it had turned Junichi into a bitter man.
Laleh had been unable to acquire another visa despite her best attempts, and had sent many letters to her daughter instead.
Junichi hid every single one of them. He had come to blame Laleh and quirks for what happened to his family, though he knew it was irrational. She became a scapegoat for his misery, and he never wanted his granddaughter to know the agony of being separated from her own mother. So, he lied.
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 for all the tragedies that had rocked his world and left him bitter and all alone.
The first time that Miya ever asked about her parents as a young child, he'd lied. He told her they both died on a train, killed by an evil villain. It was better that way, he supposed.
Quirks only brought trouble. Quirks were what tore his family apart. Quirks were what had changed his life from a peaceful countryside utopia to a terrifying world of heroes and leagues of evil villains. He hated quirks, resented those who had them, and spent his days hoping desperately that his granddaughter would not become a victim to what he viewed to be a plague on this earth.
His hope was dashed the day she came home from school with the announcement that she had finally gotten her quirk. He could tell that she was determined to use her quirk for good, so very much like her father. It pained him to see such similarities.
He tried to steer her over the years, as she grew into a lovely young woman. He would have died before he let her go to UA like she wanted, he would have dug 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.
'How about a flower shop? You have such a green thumb, it would be a successful business. It's better this way.'
'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 silly 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 matured along with her quirk.
She was smart, always at the top of her class, and she had excelled in learning to control her quirk well, though she took care not to use it much at home. It made her grandfather angry.
Their apartment was filled with plants and medical textbooks, something that made both of them happy. For Junichi, the plants reminded him of the humble country-side he had grown up in before the war. For Miya, it gave her a chance to use her quirk without her grandfather throwing a fit.
Her quirk allowed her to heal external injuries, but it also allowed her to spur growth, to help organic matter regenerate itself. She could get seeds to bloom into flowers overnight with a gentle touch from the pads of her soft fingers. She could double the size of the fern in their balcony in just an hour if she wanted to.
The neighbors often called her over to help them with houseplants or the flowers on their balconies, and she would happily go, encouraging the struggling plants to grow bigger, stronger, and more vibrant.
Miya had filled their apartment with many exotic plants from all over the world. Tulips from Holland, little palmettos on the balcony from the Caribbean, vines from England on the walls, bright flowers from the rainforests of India - she grew it all. The inside of their apartment looked like a green paradise, it was like stepping into some sort of mystical fantasy world.
Her grandfather allowed it, he enjoyed it even. He was happy to see her have an outlet that wasn't wishing away at becoming a hero or attending UA like she wanted to. He wasn't a fool, he knew he couldn't ban her from using her quirk. It was a part of her, whether he liked it or not. But he could direct her energy to something better for her, like gardening. That was certainly better that heroics.
He thought that he had done well, that he had knocked that silly dream out of her head for good. She had always been obedient, always nodding along to his remarks. He was satisfied, convinced that he had squashed her dream of becoming a hero and replacing it with something better for her.
At least until a letter arrived to their door from the very school he had forbade her from applying to.
It was addressed to Tanaka Miya, and he had been livid at the sight of it. He had never dreamed she would take the exam in secret, lying to him and hiding it from him.
He had set the letter down on their kitchen table and waited impatiently for her to come home and explain herself. This was the first time she had ever gone against his wishes, or even broken any of the rules.
What is it? He had thought to himself angrily that evening while waiting for her to come home from school. What did I do wrong? Why would she lie to me? Why does she still feel the need to pursue this? I can't lose her like I lost Kiyoko and Hayato…
She realized she was in huge trouble immediately upon entering the apartment and seeing her unimpressed grandfather sitting at the table. Her results from her UA entrance exams set in front of him, unopened.
"I'm sorry, 'Jii-chan." The teenager mumbled as she sat down hesitantly across from him. "But I had to, I couldn't just give up without trying. It's my dream."
"Just open it." He demanded in a quiet voice, feeling the knife of betrayal twisting deep in his heart, not wanting to hear any more about this dream of hers.
She did. With trembling fingers, she pulled the official letterhead out from the crisp white envelope to scan the contents of her results.
He couldn't deny that he had felt a twinge of satisfaction when her face fell in disappointment.
"I failed." She replied softly, though she seemed to have suspected it. "I'm not surprised. The practical exam was a point system to see how many targets you could take down. My quirk wasn't suited for it."
He'd felt smug until he saw her tears. He might have been a cranky old man, but he didn't want to see a woman cry any more than the next man did. He had felt very tired in that instance. Raising a teenage girl by himself was a battle.
"It's better this way, Miya." He only reiterated again, the same line he had been repeating to her for years. "You don't need to be a hero to do good. You can be a hero by saving lives as a doctor like your parents. Not all heroes chase villains, my girl."
She only nodded in dejection, resigning herself to the path that her grandfather had chosen for her.
They moved from Tokyo to Musutafu, and Miya 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.
And she 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 mind.
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 any 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 took 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 only twenty-four years old. 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 lower salary 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 ten 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. Tanned skin 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, 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.
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 phonecall 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 lesson plans in his living room that needed to be refined before the semester started 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 Tanaka Miya?" 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."
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.
"Tanaka-san." He started, and she interrupted 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 saying. 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, though your role would be in the recovery wards and you would rarely see field action."
Her mouth dropped, and 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.
She did want more.
"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. He had been impressed, both back then and upon re-watching them. Usually, healing quirks took a toll on the user, but she had gotten right back up, over and over again until the time was up, knitting flesh back together and mending bones like magic.
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 do 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 answering, and began walking 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 grade papers 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."