When In Rome, By Scrub

So this is my first go at bnha fanfiction, and I wanna be as accurate as possible. If I mess up a personality or butcher a name, please comment on it. I put enough thought into my oc to make it balanced (not a mary sue) and it will be oc based. This story is a little sad, but only for the first part.

I was six years old at the time. That was the day I got the mask from my dad. When it was the day I was just a normal kid, but with that mask, I could do anything. It felt like that to me, at least. The mask was a bunny with slit rectangles for eyes, and it was made of paper mache. It meant alot to me, and it still does.

"Daddy's low on money, kid. So when you put on this mask, think about me" His eyes were laced with a long held sadness, but it was filmed over by grief. My father was an avid drinker and an even more avid smoker, but he was the only family I had. I never knew my mother or even if she knew I knew about her. It was a burning question in my mind on rough nights, and always in the back of my consciousness when talking with father.

He was the kind of guy who you never want to be around, but end up seeing anyways. He always had strange guests coming by and making "deals" with him, usually ending with him coming home late bearing a grim expression. I knew his ability was strong from a young age, especially since he used it to keep me in line. He could generate glass all around him as any shape he wanted, a strangely beautiful quirk for someone like him. Of course I didn't know he was bad until much later in life.

My ability was a lot like his, in the sense that I could make crystals around me, except mine were all sorts of colors and even made sounds. I remember dad played some jazz on an old radio while he played solitaire, and I hummed the tune in my head. After a minute I had created my own entire radio of crystal with my quirk and it was playing that same tune. My dad encouraged me to try my quirk out in as many ways as possible, to see what I could do.

I remember one day I was in the living room watching the television when The news came on. My dad was in the lazy boy next to me, and his eyes widened when he saw the news. I remember seeing my father's mask, a bubbly glass masterpiece he would create on his face before he went out. There was also a large number. 54, in big black numbers on the screen next to him. I knew a lot of people saw the news and I said: "Daddy! You're famous!". He looked at me with eyes I had never seen before, not quite sad or happy, but a bit in between. "Of course. I am pretty famous after all. Now let's go practice some more, no?".

And practice I did.

It was probably the only fun time I remember having with him. A five year old in his backyard making giant crystalline knives to block my dad's glass sword. I got really strong for my age, going past all my schoolmates in strength and technique. But I never showed it. Dad had always emphasized that I should never show my full power unless necessary. So I stayed average in the eyes of my young peers, never really without friends but never really with them either. I was quiet and usually nervous, never really starting conversations.

But then I got older

And then I got the mask.

After he gave that mask to me, I almost never took it off, unless in public. It changed me, that mask. With that on, I was concealed from the world. With that on, I could do anything in the name of my beloved father. I didn't even think of it as stealing, more of a collection for the king, my father. I was simply his tax collector.

I became somewhat infamous in the neighborhood, making a name for myself as a villain. When I wasn't at school I was out robbing people at alleys, never caught. I only stole the quota I needed for father, and I always left a little music box with that cute jazz melody wherever I went. It was almost like my trademark.

As I became older, I drifted through society like a ghost. Close enough to not draw attention to me but far enough to not make any friends. They would get in the way of my work anyways. I was a villain, and the youngest one in town for a while. I had yet to be caught, and some people didn't think I could be. I felt powerful, second in command only to my father.

But then my world left me with a snap of the finger. I had come home from school to ask dad about the quota for today, when I noticed the front door was ajar. That was odd, dad never left and I definitely locked the door. I walked inside and my brain went numb with surprise. There were two men who were in the living room, one who looked like a void with eyes and a suit standing near where I was, and a second man who Had hands on my father and all over him.

And the men were standing…

As my father dissolved.

He was literally disintegrating in the man's hands, clawing and choking as he noticed me in the hall and gave me the last look he ever would: Regret. I collapsed from sheer shock and sadness. While I was a villain, never once had I seen death. Murder. And it was my father, the very light of my life and the only reason I got out of bed in the morning. And now he was gone, Forever.

The man noticed me on the floor, the one with the hands. His visible eye widened looking at me."I didn't know this guy had a son? Should we feed him to the noumus instead of the other guy?"

The other man talked "Master, we could have used that man as a valuable asset to our needs.".

"Tch! He was a simple stepping stone towards a bigger plan. Now, what do we do with this kid? Kill him or?...". He scratched his neck several times in a nerved sense. Would he kill me? Would that really be that awful if I don't have a purpose anymore.

"I have a suggestion.".

"I'm listening…"

"Why should we waste a completely able set of hands like his? We could use a worker."

"A janitor, eh? I like it. What do you say kid? Sound good?". A sadistic smile spread across his face, like he was tempting me to retaliate for killing my father. However, all I could think about was his offer. A new purpose? A greater cause?

"...s..sure."

I was weak, so shocked by my loss of light that I didn't even notice all of the crystal forming around me. A sad, disjointed tune played, completely formless. I was alone, and I was feeling it deep. It made me desperate, practically hungry for a new light to follow, to serve. The choice this man of hands had offered me seemed like an immediate solution, and I took it.

Good first chapter? Please review what I can do better. Cannon timeline will start coming in either next chapter or chapter three. Our little mask boy had a whole chapter of character development so I can start with action scenes. I hope I don't screw anything up. Bye!