STAMP
Nighteye set the internship acceptance form on his desk. Then adjusted it. The stamp went next to it, parallel with where it would be pressed against the paper.
Nighteye scowled. No, not would. Could. Might. The barest whisper of a chance, given only out of respect of his old mentor. Even though every fiber of his being screamed at him to rip the form to shreds. Neat, parallel, perfect shreds.
Midoriya never awoke the Quirk. Neither former wielder nor his mentor could awaken the spark of One for All dormant in the boy. And in their desperation, they turned to him. The thought burned, raged like an inferno. He spent years molding Togata into an ideal candidate, only to be scorned in favor of a lifeless mockery of heroism.
Was All Might so blind? Did he not see the blank stare at the camera, did he not hear the toneless, uninspired drivel of a speech, did he not feel the existential dread that this inhuman, unfeeling machine pantomiming a hero's presence held his legacy in its cold iron grip?
A knock came at the door. Firm. Precise. Three knocks, not the one of an accidental brush against the door, nor the two of a casual request to enter, not four demanding entry or more implying anger and irritation. Three. Formal. Polite.
Too perfect.
Nighteye frowned. "Enter."
The door opened, exactly ninety degrees. Hair groomed down to each meticulous strand, face blank, unblemished. Hero costume immaculately clean, without a wrinkle on it.
"Hello, Nighteye." Izuku looked around at the All Might merchandise. Nighteye had it brought in the night before, even the limited-edition poster for which he felt heart-wrenching agony when he had put it on the wall with sticky putty.
He hunted for the slightest sign of emotion in Izuku's eyes. And in those blank eyes, he saw nothing.
Nighteye held out his hand, and Izuku shook it. The hand felt warm to his grasp, the synthetic skin a near-perfect facsimile, but he felt no life in Izuku's fingers.
"Thank you for accepting me for the internship."
"I haven't accepted you yet." And Nighteye never would. "You must pass a test first."
"Which test? I have completed lots of tests, and I got perfect scores on all of them."
There was no pride in that statement. Merely fact. Nighteye only felt scorn at it. "The form is on my desk. You have three minutes to stamp it."
"Understood."
Nighteye activated his Quirk. And froze. No visions came to him. As Izuku stepped forward, Nighteye grabbed the high-density seals in his pocket. His mind raced through attack vectors Izuku could take. Even blind, he would not let this soulless puppet best him so-
"I am done."
Nighteye blinked. Izuku held up the form, neatly stamped in the center of the square.
"I see."
Izuku cocked his head. "Was that the test? It did not seem difficult."
Centipeder and Bubble Girl shivered as Nighteye's despairing laughter echoed across his agency.
498
Oh look, the plot's back!