Disclaimer: I do not own the popular Boku no Hero Academia. Only the OCs in the story.

The Finer Things In Life

Chapter 1

"Thank You For This Bad Day"

She's infinitely practical, a blunt instrument at the best of times.

So, Nise Mohoka, will radiate her dislike for heroes all throughout Musutafu like a wondering hermit if she has to. And she really has to since her father signed her up for one of the most prestigious hero schools to ever been build: U.A Academy.

Even if it is the practice entrance exam for the high school, she already feels like she's a student as she zombie-walks to the school.

Mohoka scowls. It was her Dad who ninja kicked her out of bed this morning. If it was up to her, a stack of pancakes, and a batch of anime reruns would be an epic day. It was also her Dad that insisted for her to apply to his alma mater, U.A, which is weird, because he isn't a super hero himself. She doesn't question it, though because…meh.

It was a deal of some sorts. Only three years, and then she could choose her own adventure. Her Dad wouldn't push the hero life onto her unless she gets accepted and stay in U.A for the full three years. Only if she gets accepted, huh? She clutches her bag with a smirk.

She falls into the crowd of kids entering the school and by the time Mohoka enters the auditorium—an auditorium that's annoyingly big—the place is packed with kids, even some international kids she notices as she passes by a band of kids speaking English. Curious, and checking if she still remembers some English from middle school, she listens in on their conversation. By what they are saying, they sound like licensed jackasses.

Standing in this place, her first reaction is to swim up through the stream of kids to the exit. She pushes that away and wanders into a seat—preferably in the back—just before someone bounces onto the stage, and all the chatter dies down. Mohoka couldn't make out the person, but knew that voice. She always cursed it because her Dad would wake her up, blaring his radio show, and seriously, no one can be that enthusiastic that early in the morning.

"Present Mic…" she mutters with a frown as she watches him explode in an energy bomb of words and arms. With his winged hair and speaker-like vocals (he literally has a radio around his neck like a choker) he looks more obnoxious than she thought he'd be. How long has it been? Five minutes? Ok.

Save for one amazed squeal, it is silent as a grave, and Mohoka is in between laughing or putting her head in her hands. As Present Mic drags on, she contemplates the merits of taking a nap until one person, ten rows in front of her, shoots up from his seat, obviously offended by what Present Mic said or something.

"You said there'd be three villains, but on the hand out it says four!" The kid shouts, and he sounds like he's in such emotional pain for reasons Mohoka didn't want to explore. And handout? She didn't get a handout. Well, she did slip in here the last minute.

The kid continues his emotional rant, "Such an error would be the height of embarrassment for such a top tier academy! The reason we are seated here today is because we seek guidance on the path to becoming model heroes!"

Mohoka couldn't help but send a scandalized stare at the boy who was talking. He couldn't see it, but she hope he could feel her angsty stare from ten rows away. He's freaking out over a typo, so, he officially labeled himself as a hardass. Just to make sure his title is locked in place, he stops his rant and turns behind him to point at a kid, pinning him with the same amount of attention as himself.

"And you…Yes, you with the curly hair! What's up with you, fidgeting and squealing! Can't you sit still for a second! You're distracting! If you think Yuuei is some pleasure jaunt, leave at once!"

"Sorry." Mohoka hears a quiet mutter, quiet like a cat's meow.

Now she knew the person who was squealing at Present Mic's voice. Around him, kids laugh, snicker behind their hands, and Mohoka sighs and blesses the poor soul who was put on blast like that. Assumptions could be made, many assumptions that possibly would question that kid's mental state.

Minutes tick by as Present Mic's voice run laps around the auditorium. The rules for the exam sounded like a giant rip-off of Super Mario Brothers, especially the supposed fourth villain worth zero points in which Present Mic made a direct reference to the Thwomp cinderblock from Mario

"If they really wanted to make this a great rip off, they should've used Bowser," Mohoka mutters, actually disappointed. "It's usually him in the games."

She should've brought her Nintendo 3DS.

"Now let's move to the main event, the Plus Ultra!"

So, her plan to purposefully forget her gym clothes failed, epically.

Mohoka had it all in her head. She'd forget her clothes at home, and they wouldn't let her participate. Then she'd go home and tell her father about U.A and their injustices and their blatant hatred for Western fashion. Yet, once she opened her bag, she saw a new set of gym clothes, flat and folded, fresh from the store, and a new pair of shoes; Reebok to boot. Next to it was a black bento box with sakura blossoms sprinkled on the cover. When Mohoka opened it, she made a face, a face that if someone were in the vicinity, they would've deemed it the worst frown ever, since the creation of man. Then they would've probably taken a picture.

Written on the rice was 'NICE TRY' in cheerful pink dyed nori. Taped underneath the bento box was a little sticky note that said, 'a deal's a deal.'

Now here she is, dressed in her gym clothes and red hair in a tight tail, arms crossed, still wondering how her Dad was able to ghost his way into her bag. She had her eyes trained on that bag. He probably did that when she was sleeping, that sneaky old man. She knew she should've locked her door.

But knowing her Dad, that would be good as attacking with a paper ball in a knife fight.

The place that they are having the Plus Ultra exam is in this training area that looked like a mix of Tokyo and New York City (well, from the pictures she's seen from her father's imported magazines). Skyscrapers, buildings, shops, traffic lights, sidewalks; it's like a little U.A Academy city. While everyone is awestruck by the sights, Mohoka thinks where and how much money they've siphoned to build this just for it to be destroyed by examinees.

Would it be okay if she hides in one of the buildings why everyone did their own thing?

Well, her father made it sparkling clear that he'd chew her out for an eternity if she purposely fails. She smirks.

Oh well! She can suck it up.

Laughter shakes her from her thoughts, and she turns to see a horizon of kids laughing at…whatever the hell they're laughing at. Curious, Mohoka goes to see, but can only see a tuff of an impressive green afro, one that looks weirdly similar. What was the name of those toys? Trolls?

"And start!"

Everyone turns to see Present Mic stunting on one of the towers behind them, and just stared in general confusion, or maybe pitiful stupidity for Present Mic, who clearly didn't know how to countdown

"There's no such thing as a countdown in real battle! Run!"

Mohoka moves aside from the stampede of kids dashing into the city, screaming, pushing, and whatnot. She couldn't really be bothered to join the mass. Present Mic did say that there were villains placed all over the city. She's bound to encounter one eventually. Plus, she didn't want to be mush on the soles of someone's feet.

While the last person in the crowd darts past her, her feet are barely at a drag.

"Come on, examinee 7820! At that pace, there'll be no villains left for you to beat!"

"Don't you see I'm going," Mohoka groans at the unwarranted attention, rolling her eyes.

She will and is going to go at her own pace. Shouldn't Present Mic get a penalty or something for pressuring a student (though 97% of it would be Mohoka exaggerating the living fuck out of everything.) So, she ignores everything about him until he's completely out of earshot distance. She hears the loud noises of battle and robot flesh being ripped apart and can't help but whistle on how much the examinees are wrecking the place. The city looks like a third world-esque place or a post-apocalyptic catastrophe, save for a guy frolicking about and flashing his navel that shoot lasers.

A very weird quirk.

Mohoka dodges a runaway robot part—most likely from someone's attack, jerk—and focuses very hard on becoming one with the building behind her. Not because she's afraid, but mostly to supervise, and she also kind of needs to laugh, especially at the 'oh shit' faces people have on scrambling for villains.

One came sooner than she anticipated, however, the robot busting through the building across from her, posing in front of her with a big number two on it. The jumpscare didn't really spook her. In matter of fact, the pose the robot is in is very model worthy, enough for professional level.

"I'm sure lots of modeling companies would like to have you," Mohoka says as the robot, who probably took offense to that, swings its arm down.

She rolls out the way, not the better choice with pieces of concrete, glass, and other things on the ground, but still a helpful dodge. It was a quick attack, quick for the size of the robot. The robot is huge, but not as huge as the buildings. The buildings are too dense for her to use though, Mohoka thinks, and scans the robot, just to dodge another blow, barely by an inch this time. She needs something with at least equal density to beat this cat-walking robot.

She looks at the robot again.

"With enough speed and momentum, it'll be more than enough," Mohoka murmurs.

It's always a quick process, and she never really felt it, her quirk. That is one thing she actually likes about her quirk: no charging or powering up to get her point across that she's going to fucking maim you. But it is complicated to explain, and she doesn't bother with the details either.

The robot aims for another blow, and she allows it, taunting the robot with her own model-like pose. At the strike, she evades, not too far away, enough to remain unscathed and touch the robot arm. Just one touch.

These lasers are gonna tear her a new asshole, the robot must've thought as it makes a mechanic howl, and pops out several gun barrels. She bobs and weaves through the lasers; a consistent pattern until she's reaches the robot's stomach. She made sure that she was fast with her maneuvers, collecting all the speed she could get.

She punches, hard enough for her teeth to rumble in her mouth, and the robot flies, skipping and tripping until the landing explodes it into tiny pieces.

"Huh…I'm gonna miss that modeling robot," Mohoka says, all sympathy.

"Five minutes and twenty seconds left~~!" Present Mic's voice announces.

She shouldn't feel a strain for a good while now. She can still use the same absorption to defeat other robots, another likeable trait of her quirk.

Around the time that there's barely two minutes left, Mohoka is tired, and ready to give up on the entire institution of tests. Defeating these robots is one hell of a chore, especially the three point robots, go figure. Melee attacks, guns, and lasers; unfair at its finest. Yeah, the argument could be made that test aren't really supposed to be fair, but Mohoka always believed that if something is unfair, you weren't suppose to try in the first place. But, in roughly four minutes, she was able to raise her points from two to four.

"Four points should be enough," She says, staring blankly at the ceiling. The passing mark is 40 points, she realizes.

Oh well!

The staff is probably watching them through the ceiling, and laughing themselves sick, thinking this is the best, best shit ever, like, best. Mohoka has half a mind to blow them a raspberry when Present Mic's voice (loudly, always loudly) echoes again.

"I hope you guys like this one! We call this one, the Gimmick!"

Mohoka cocks an eyebrow. "The Gimmick? What in the…?"

A record-breaking crash (no, seriously, there's been so many robot crashing out of nowhere that it broke the logic of counting) and everyone turns to see a Godzilla size robot walking so casually towards them. Decked out in everything that the other robots had and more, if this robot had a face, it would have a smug smirk and say, "Each and every one of you are getting your asses kicked." Everyone freezes like hunted animals, and Mohoka squeaks a little.

Mohoka is amazed how everyone is still standing gawking at the thing, until a decent size hole on the robot pops out, and slurps up a building in one strong suck; that's when everyone hightails it out.

Mohoka's eyes are on the backs of too many heads, all which are blocking the way to the exit. Her hiding in a building idea doesn't seem bad right now, she thinks as she joins the running crowd. She has to admit, she's a little spooked cause this thing is murking everything in sight, and really, how is U.A allowed to pull stunts like this? This is against so many human rights laws. Above the screaming, she could hear Present Mic bruising his kidneys with laughter, having a grand time, and Mohoka bites her lips in annoyance, takes in hindsight that she can sue them to non-existence if anything happens to her.

"Oww! Ouch!"

Mohoka isn't a horrible person. She wants everyone aware of that. She wants to ignore the cry, mainly because she didn't want to participate in this shitstorm anymore.

She turns around, and it's like a scene from a cliché movie.

A girl, face squeezed in obvious pain, is trying to get up off the ground, struggling just to fall back down. Mohoka gets a good look and sees her left ankle is buried underneath rubble. She clenches her fist. She doesn't want to save anyone, doesn't want to be here. She didn't even want to take this stupid test.

"Ouch…!"

Mohoka doesn't remember moving; only that she's suddenly by the girl's side, kicking and scratching at the rubble burying her foot.

The strain from using her quirk too long starts to kick in at a extremely wrong time, coming in as tiny pricks, and she grits her teeth at the fact that she might not be able to carry the girl if the strain comes full force.

She swats away the last of the rubble, and pulls the girl up. "C'mon, we gotta go," She grits out between teeth that is gnashing together, withholding the small sharp pain.

"But," The girl whispers, pale and sweaty, until shortly gasping most of her breath away. Mohoka doesn't look up, doesn't need to, judging by a giant shadow hovering over them. The Gimmick lets out a nasty creak that seems to rock the very ground. She can hear the girl's whimpers, and Mohoka breathes hard; she's not sure whether it's from frustration or to mask her own whimpers.

It's strange how the people who want to be heroes skip out on actually trying to save someone. She can't even call this a rescue because she's practical, infinitely practical enough to know that she can't beat this psychotic robot nor she can't rescue this person. Her legs are already on the brink of dashing out of here (cowardice…no, she's just so done). The strain is gradually getting worst. Mohoka closes her eyes in certainty.

Now I know I'm not cut out for this stupid hero thing

The sound of running, frantic and swift, comes from behind her, and by the time she opens her eyes to register that the Gimmick didn't pulverize her till she blended in with the rubble, she hears a booming cry.

"SMASH!"

It's not jaw dropping, rather relief easing, but Mohoka couldn't help but watch the Gimmick roll into other buildings in a clobbering mess, like an aged tumbleweed. It was something to behold, how much strength was put into that punch. It has to be some sort of enhancement quirk; the boy who threw the punch looks lanky, even has an awkward position for his punch. But really, it was something to give props to.

Mohoka eyes drift to the girl once she pulls her to rest on one giant robot part that must've came from the Gimmick.

"Hold on," the girl whispers. Mohoka's organs seem to lodge in her throat once her body felt flimsy, lifting off the ground in one go. The girl is pressing her fingers together, face in a tight line.

"Defying gravity, huh?" Mohoka nods. "Pretty nice."

As it is, the boy who saved them is falling with zero grace to the ground and, as fast as floating could take them, they reach him in good time. Mohoka sees the boy. His hair is the one that she saw, the green troll hair that's sort of fried. He's scared shitless, tears of mercy in his wide eyes, and though this situation is kind of dire, she has a strong urge to laugh at his panicked face.

She pushes that aside and grabs his hand. His grip is strong, but is soft and inconsistent, like he doesn't know how much to give, but she pulls him, just enough so the girl can touch him. It's kind of a poorly executed plan, on both sides actually (because Mohoka really thinks about it and realizes she really didn't do anything), but they're all able to descend to the ground. Not safely though. The girl seems to hit her weight limit, and they all drop only an inch away from the ground.

Mohoka groans and stands, just in time to avoid the girl throwing her head behind her and retching.

"Eww gross," Mohoka whines, pinching her nose. "You'll be okay."

She then look towards the boy, planked face into the ground, his green hair puffed up like a bush growing from the rubble. His legs look like they gave up and turned into noodles, and his right arm…Mohoka winces at the singed part that is literally sizzling. Not only that, it's sickly twisted, fractures popping out of order, and it looks swollen too. Never being the one to be pegged as sentimental, she couldn't help but feel bad at how mangled he looked, just to save the girl and her, a person who didn't even want to be here.

She's so focused on the boy, twitching, mumbling that all he needs is one point—passing is on the line—she didn't hear Present Mic's screech the end of the test, didn't hear the other kids gather beside her, all in shock and chatting fervently amongst themselves.

"Go home everyone. I'll take care of this." It took a minute to really translate. Mohoka didn't expect a gentle voice. It had a nice chime to it too.

People part aside and coming from the crowd is a bent old lady with skin like dried paper.

Cute, Mohoka thinks as she watches the lady cane-walk to the boy. Old people are so cute. By the looks of it, she's the nurse of U.A if wearing a needle pin and having a needle cane say anything. All the better by her next words.

"Hello everyone. I'm Kyouyu Kango, the recovery girl for U.A." Recovery girl? More like recovery grandma.

She nods her head.

"From the looks of things, it seems your body and your quirk aren't synced up, sonny boy." She smiles with a little eye crinkle. Her crow's feet look more like happy smiles. Mohoka has to resist the urge to wrap her up in comfy blankets and make her some milk tea.

She checks the boy until, to the bewilderment of everyone, smooches him on top of the head, similar to a mother kissing away the wounds on a child. Mohoka opens her mouth to question, maybe to say an unsolicited comment as well, but she sees his right arm peeling off all the damage inflicted, his fingers snapping back to shape in a matter of seconds. His arm is going back to normal, and Mohoka notices muscle, biceps, sticking out like hills.

He's not as lanky as she thought.

"All right, this poor boy should be sorted now." Kango faces the crowd of kids, "Are there anymore injured?"

Mohoka stares at the old lady, catching her words. Just seeing her, the whole test was so obvious. She whacks a hand to her forehead and, though she clearly saw, she asks through a beat up voice, "Kyouyu-san. What's your quirk?"

She turns her crinkly smile to her. "It's quite simple, dearie. I can amplify and speed up a person's healing process. Do you have any injuries?

"No, just a litt—" In a flash, Kango smacks a smooch on her cheek, and Mohoka is split between blushing at how adorable it was or running for the damn (U.A) hills. Besides that, her strain from before vanishes, and she rubs her right arm, her dominant arm. She guesses the boy likes to punch with his right arm too.

"Thank you," Mohoka smiles, some of it nice and some tired. "It was just a little muscle strain."

"Yes, but you looked a little shaken, dearie." Mohoka pauses, holds her stare a little bit, ignoring her mind for a few seconds because why would she feel any type of way about this and then snorts midway into a scoff. She decides to change the subject, to something not about her.

"I guess that's the reason U.A gets to pull so many sue-worthy stunts, because of your quirk. Not only that," Her eyes wonder to the boy on the ground, probably knocked out at this point. "There was more to just smashing robots."

Kango laughs. "You're a clever girl. Here, have some candy."

She fishes through her pocket and drops some hard candy in Mohoka's hand. They're watermelon flavored, the type of candy abandoned by the youth and adored by the old. She pops one into her mouth and scrunches her nose. It's muted and bland, the flavor, but it's the thought that counts.

"Do you know this boy?" Kango asks.

"No." Her answer is more abrupt than she intends, but she thinks this rescue would've had less value if she actually knew the boy. She then grimaces on what this actually entails.

"I got a debt over my head."

Sorry for the abrupt changes. I'm polishing these chapters up.