UA's lecture hall buzzed, the air electric with restless energy, weeks of lockdown finally loosening.
Zion slouched in a back row, his boots scuffed, jacket slung over his chair. The campus had been a pressure cooker since the clone attack—suspicion trailing him like smoke, Deku's glares, Aizawa's questions.
But he'd kept his head down, his crew—Momo, Ochaco, Midnight—tightening, their loyalty his edge. Now, the hero internship stage was here, a chance to move, to build, to dodge All for One's shadow.
Aizawa stood at the podium, his voice gravelly, cutting through the chatter.
"Settle down. The second internship stage starts Monday. You'll be assigned to agencies based on performance, needs, and—yes, some random picks."
His eyes flicked to Zion, a flicker of doubt, then moved on. "This is your shot to prove yourselves. Don't screw it up."
Behind him, Present Mic grinned, waving a list, his voice booming, "Let's get to it, heroes! Your placements are live!"
The screen lit up, names and agencies scrolling. Students leaned forward, whispers rising.
Bakugo to Best Jeanist again, Kirishima to Fat Gum, Momo to Uwabami.
Zion's name flashed: Endeavor Agency – Zion, Midoriya, Todoroki, Hagakure.
Deku perked up, his notebook out, muttering; Shoto's face stayed blank, his ice side frosting his desk; Toru's seat wiggled, her invisible giggle loud.
Zion's gut twisted—Endeavor, the flame asshole, with Deku's nerd ass, Shoto's cold stare, and Toru's bubbly chaos. Random, sure, but it felt like a trap, All for One's threat a ghost in his mind.
"Fuckin' hell," Zion muttered, leaning back, his crude grin hiding unease. Endeavor's agency was a powerhouse, a chance to sharpen his edge, but Deku's hero worship and Shoto's suspicion would be a pain. Toru, though—her invisibility could be useful, if she wasn't too chipper.
The room erupted, students cheering, some groaning—Kaminari got a small agency, Jiro high-fived Mina.
Momo, across the aisle, caught Zion's eye, her face tight, her internship pulling her elsewhere. Ochaco, beside her, chewed her lip, her gaze on Zion, heavy with something soft.
Aizawa raised a hand, silencing the noise. "You'll report to your agencies in three days. Pack light, train hard, and don't embarrass UA. Dismissed."
Students spilled out, buzzing, but Zion hung back, Momo and Ochaco drifting to him, their steps slow, like they dreaded the distance coming. The hall emptied, leaving the three in a quiet corner, sunlight cutting through high windows, dust dancing in the air.
"Endeavor, huh?" Momo said, her voice low, her blazer crisp, a tiny hairpin sparkling, her Creation Quirk a reflex she hid. "You'll be with Shoto… and Deku. That's not easy."
Her eyes held worry, her loyalty unshaken despite the weeks of whispers.
Zion smirked, crude but warm. "Yeah, a real party. But I'll handle it."
She nodded, her lips parting, then closing, like she wanted to say more. "I'll miss you," she admitted, soft, her hand brushing his arm, a spark that stirred his, but he kept it leashed.
"I'll miss you too," he said, voice rough. "But we'll link up soon. Train hard, make shit happen."
Her smile was small, fierce, a promise they'd fight on together.
Ochaco shifted, her hero skirt wrinkled, her eyes down, then up, meeting his.
"Zion… I'm with Ryukyu. It's pretty good, but… I don't want to be away from you." Her voice trembled, her heart bare, her Gravity Quirk a quiet hum he could almost feel. She'd joined his cause, hesitant but real, and now the split hit her hard.
Zion stepped closer, his hand tipping her chin, his grin cocky. "Ryukyu's a dragon, Ochaco. Learn from her, get tough. We'll be back together before you know it, kicking ass."
Her blush spread, her nod slow, her eyes wet but determined. "Okay… I'll get stronger, for you," she said, her voice firming.
He winked, crude desire—her thighs, her moans—buried under focus. "That's my girl. Power up, both of you. We've got big shit coming."
They nodded, Momo's hand lingering on his, Ochaco's smile shaky but real, their separation a cut they'd stitch later.
The day buzzed with prep—students packing, trading agency tips, the cafeteria loud with plans.
Zion kept low, dodging Deku's eager chatter about Endeavor, Shoto's icy stare, Toru's invisible nudges, her voice a constant giggle.
"This is gonna be so cool, Zion!" she chirped, her sleeve bouncing, her enthusiasm a fucking whirlwind.
He grunted, "Yeah, sure, just don't sneak up on me."
Her laugh echoed, a wild card he'd play if needed.
In the gym, Zion trained solo, crafting blades with Creation, testing Lightspeed, Ironclad hardening his fists.
Aizawa watched from the sidelines, his suspicion like a weight, but Zion ignored him, his mind on Endeavor's agency—Flame Hero's turf, a furnace to forge his skills or burn him.
Deku's hero obsession would clash and Shoto's frost a challenge.
Night fell, the dorms alive with excitement, students hyped for Monday. Zion sat on his bed, phone buzzing—Momo's text: Stay sharp. I'm training already.
Ochaco's followed: Ryukyu's intense! Miss you.
He replied, Crush it, it's for the best.
His crew was splitting, but their fire was his, their Quirks—Creation, Gravity, Somnambulist—keys to his fight.
He leaned back, lust for them simmering, his plan clear: use the internship to grow his power, stay one step ahead of the enemy.