Acceleration

The week following my initial study session with Eve passes with surprising speed.

Our chemistry project progresses steadily, her scientific approach complementing my analytical mindset in ways that make the work both efficient and, unexpectedly, enjoyable.

By the time Friday arrives, I find myself looking forward to our planned evening - the physics lecture and dinner beforehand.

It's a strange feeling, this anticipation for something so normal, so disconnected from my larger concerns about Viltrumites and survival.

I spend the afternoon at my mandatory therapy session with Dr. Levine, a middle-aged woman with kind eyes and a penetrating gaze that always makes me - well original Megumi - feel she can see through the carefully constructed persona he presented.

Today's topic is "future planning" - ironically appropriate given how uncertain the future actually is.

"Have you given more thought to college applications?" she asks, pen poised over her notepad. "Your uncle mentioned you were considering pre-med."

"I'm exploring options," I reply noncommittally. "Science has always interested me."

"That's good," she says, making a note. "Focusing on long-term goals is an important part of your rehabilitation process. It gives you something positive to work toward."

"I've also been spending time with some new friends," I offer, knowing she values social connections as signs of progress. "Working on a chemistry project with Eve Wilkins."

Dr. Levine's eyebrows rise slightly. "Eve Wilkins? The science prodigy? That's an interesting partnership."

"Ms. Jacobs assigned us as partners," I explain. "But it's been... educational."

"In what way?"

I choose my words carefully. "Eve approaches problems differently than I do. More methodically. It's helping me see other perspectives."

Dr. Levine smiles, clearly pleased. "That's excellent, Megumi. Broadening your social circle beyond Mark and William, especially with someone who challenges you intellectually, is a positive step."

The rest of the session continues in this vein - discussing school, my community service, my relationship with Uncle Kenji.

I provide enough genuine details to satisfy her professional curiosity while keeping my true circumstances carefully hidden.

By the time I leave her office, I have just enough time to return home, change, and meet Eve for dinner before the lecture.

We've agreed to meet at a small Thai restaurant near the university campus.

When I arrive, Eve is already waiting outside, dressed more formally than I'm used to seeing her at school - dark jeans, a fitted blazer over a simple top, her hair pulled back in a way that accentuates her features.

"You clean up nice, Fushiguro," she says with a slight smile as I approach.

"You too," I reply, suddenly aware that this evening has taken on layers beyond mere academic collaboration. Is this a date? No, that's impossible.

We don't know each other well enough to even think of such a thing - besides that the reputation I have is that of a former gangster, I don't think a hero would see that as prospective relationship material.

I'm just looking too much into it.

The restaurant is cozy and dimly lit, popular with university students but not overcrowded. We're seated at a corner table that offers both privacy and a view of the entire space - a tactical advantage I appreciate automatically.

After ordering, Eve leans forward slightly. "So, how's your control coming along? Any practice since our session?"

I nod, keeping my voice low. "Some. I've been working on precision with smaller objects. Your visualization technique helped."

"Good," she says, looking genuinely pleased. "The lecture tonight might give us some new ideas.

Professor Zhang is a leading researcher in quantum mechanics - his work on particle entanglement has implications for energy transfer that could be relevant to your abilities."

"You seem to know a lot about his research," I observe.

Eve shrugs, but there's a hint of pride in her expression. "I've read all his published papers. He's brilliant - approaches quantum physics from angles most researchers don't consider."

Our food arrives, momentarily pausing the conversation.

As we eat, the discussion shifts to more mundane topics - school, the chemistry project, mutual complaints about Mr. Burch's history exams.

"Mark mentioned you're having dinner with his family again this Sunday," Eve says, twirling noodles around her fork.

"His mother invited me," I confirm, wondering how much Mark has told her about me. "She worries about me being alone when my uncle works weekends."

"The Graysons seem nice," Eve comments. "I've only met Mrs. Grayson at school functions, but she always makes a point to talk to all the students."

"She is," I agree, thinking of Debbie's genuine warmth. "Mr. Grayson is... more reserved."

Eve's expression shifts subtly. "I imagine he would be. Being Omni-Man probably keeps him busy."

I freeze, my fork halfway to my mouth. Did she just...?

Eve continues eating calmly, as if she hadn't just dropped a bombshell. After a moment, she looks up, meeting my startled gaze with a steady one of her own.

"What?" she asks innocently. "Did you think I wouldn't know you had figured it out? Or that I wouldn't figure it out myself?"

I set my fork down carefully. "Most people haven't."

Did she know this in canon so soon? Damn it, why wasn't I one of those obsessed people who made a story their entire lives.

If I knew I would end up in this world, I would have watched the show and read the comics a hundred times over.

"I'm not most people," she says simply. "Mark and you are far too close for that secret to be - especially since you have your own abilities.

Besides that the physical resemblance between Mr.Nolan and Omni-Man is obvious once you're looking for it.

Plus, the two are never seen in the same place, and Mark's always making excuses for his father's absences that coincide with Omni-Man's appearances."

Her deductive reasoning is impressive, if concerning. If she's pieced this together, what else might she have deduced?

"Does Mark know that you know?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "We've never discussed it directly. I think he assumes I don't know." She takes a sip of her water. "I respect his privacy. It's not my place to bring it up unless he does."

I nod, appreciating her discretion even as I recalibrate my understanding of her awareness. "That's... considerate."

"It's basic decency," she counters. "Everyone's entitled to their secrets."

The irony of her statement hangs between us. I study her for a moment, weighing my next words carefully.

"Including you?" I ask quietly.

Her eyes meet mine, unflinching but guarded. "What do you mean?"

I could press the issue, acknowledge that I know she's Atom Eve, create a foundation of mutual disclosure.

But something holds me back - perhaps the same respect for boundaries she's just expressed, or perhaps the strategic value of maintaining some asymmetry in our knowledge of each other.

"Nothing specific," I say instead. "Just that everyone has things they keep to themselves."

She seems to relax slightly, though her gaze remains assessing. "True enough. Though I think you have more than most, Megumi Fushiguro."

"My life's an open book," I reply with a slight smile. "Juvenile record and all."

"Right," she says, not buying it for a second. "The reformed delinquent who can cut objects in half with invisible energy and speaks like royalty when threatened."

"When you put it that way, it does sound unusual."

She laughs, a genuine sound that lightens the tension between us. "Just a bit."

We finish our meal with the conversation returning to safer topics.

As we walk to the university for the lecture, Eve brings up the subject again, her tone casual but her words deliberate.

"You know, I've been thinking about your abilities," she says. "The way you manipulate energy - it's not unlike what some of the heroes can do."

"I suppose," I reply noncommittally.

"Have you ever thought about... using them that way?"

I glance at her, trying to read her intent. Is she recruiting? Testing me?

The question warrants careful consideration. My initial instinct is to dismiss the idea - my primary focus has always been survival and preparation for the Viltrumite threat.

But as I think about it more deeply, I realize there might be strategic value in establishing connections within the hero community.

From my knowledge of the comics, many of these heroes possess remarkable abilities that could be invaluable against the coming threats.

Rex Splode, for instance - despite his abrasive personality, his power to charge objects with explosive energy had proven capable of harming even Viltrumites in certain timelines.

His kamikaze attack killed an alternate version of Mark if I remember correctly.

The original Monster Girl's transformation abilities, Robot's genius... all potentially useful allies.

If controlled, of course. I would need to establish my authority just like I did a thousand years ago in the Heian Era when I made the Fujiwara clan head prostrate before me in a pool of his own son, daughter and wife's blood.

Not that dramatic of course, but the point still stands.

Besides them there's the Global Defense Agency, with its resources and intelligence networks.

Cecil Stedman might be a manipulative bureaucrat, but his organization has access to technology and information that could prove crucial.

"I've considered it," I admit finally. "Though not for the usual reasons."

Eve raises an eyebrow. "What reasons would those be?"

Again, lying is foolish. I need Eve and Mark to eventually see me as their best friend, one they seek guidance from, and respect the authority of.

Such a bond can only be developed on perfect honesty - though that doesn't mean I need to reveal much.

Honesty doesn't mean being an open book.

"Strategic alliances," I say, "The world is full of threats - some we know about, others we don't. Having connections to people with different abilities and resources seems... prudent."

"That's an unusually pragmatic view of heroism," she observes.

I shrug. "I'm a pragmatic person. My past experiences taught me the value of having the right allies."

"So you see it as building a network? Not about helping people?"

"The two aren't mutually exclusive," I counter. "Building connections with capable individuals means more effective responses to threats. That helps people by extension."

She studies me for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "You have an interesting perspective, Megumi. Most people who consider hero work are driven by more idealistic motives."

"Idealism without strategy leads to wasted potential," I say.

"Look at the Teen Team - talented individuals who could accomplish so much more with better use of their abilities, coordination and resource sharing."

Eve's eyes widen slightly at my mention of the superhero group. "You know about the Teen Team?"

"They're hardly a secret. They've been in the news, and Mark talks about superheroes all the time." I explain.

This is a good way to make her begin to question - to perhaps by herself reveal her identity and seek my perspective that way.

She seems to accept this explanation. "Fair enough. And you're not wrong about the coordination issues. Heroes tend to operate independently, which isn't always the most effective approach."

We reach the physics building before the conversation can continue further.

The lecture hall is already filling with students and faculty, creating a welcome diversion from the increasingly complex territory we've been navigating.

Professor Zhang's presentation is as enlightening as Eve promised.

His theories on quantum entanglement and energy transfer across space-time offer intriguing possibilities for understanding - and potentially enhancing - my cursed energy techniques.

Throughout the lecture, I'm acutely aware of Eve beside me, her focus intense as she takes detailed notes, occasionally glancing my way when a particularly relevant point is made.

There's something almost intimate about sharing this intellectual experience, both of us finding different applications in the same information.

When the lecture concludes, we join the crowd filing out of the hall, discussing the implications of Zhang's research for my abilities.

"The way he described quantum coupling could explain how your energy maintains coherence during the cutting process," Eve suggests as we step into the cool evening air.

"It's not just force being applied - it's a precise manipulation of molecular bonds."

"That would explain why different materials require different levels of concentration," I agree. "I'm not just pushing harder - I'm adapting to more complex molecular structures."

"Exactly!" Her eyes light up with scientific enthusiasm. "We should test this with various compounds, see if the difficulty correlates with molecular complexity rather than density."

Her excitement is contagious, and I find myself genuinely engaged in the theoretical exploration.

It's been a long time - perhaps ever - since I've allowed myself to simply enjoy the process of discovery without calculating its immediate strategic value.

Our discussion is interrupted by a distant explosion that shatters the evening calm. Both our heads snap toward the sound, coming from downtown. A plume of smoke rises against the darkening sky.

Eve tenses beside me, her posture shifting subtly. I recognize the change immediately - it's the transition from civilian to combatant, a physical readiness I know intimately.

"That doesn't look good," she says, her voice carefully neutral despite the alert focus in her eyes.

"No," I agree, already mapping the quickest route downtown in my mind.

She glances at her phone, then back at me with a too-casual expression. "I just remembered I promised my mom I'd help with something tonight. I should probably get going."

"Of course," I reply, accepting the transparent excuse. "I should head back too. Curfew and all."

We stand there for a moment, both aware of the pretense, neither willing to be the first to drop it.

"Thanks for coming tonight," she says finally. "I had a good time."

"Me too," I reply, and find that I mean it. "We should do this again."

"Definitely." She hesitates, then surprises me by stepping forward for a quick hug. "Get home safe, okay?"

The brief contact is unexpected, and I find myself momentarily caught off guard by the casual intimacy. By the time I recover, she's already stepping back.

"You too," I manage. "Text me when you get home."

She nods and turns to leave, walking quickly toward the campus parking lot. I watch her go, noting how she chooses a route with plenty of concealment opportunities once she's out of my sight.

I wait until she's disappeared from view before moving myself, but instead of heading home, I make my way toward downtown.

Whatever's happening there warrants investigation - both for strategic information and to ensure it's not the beginning of something larger.

As I navigate through side streets and alleyways, I reflect on the evening's revelations.

Eve is more aware than I'd given her credit for - she knows about Nolan, and her questions about heroics suggest she might be probing to see if I've deduced her own secret identity.

The smoke plume grows larger as I approach downtown.

Emergency vehicles wail past, their sirens echoing off the buildings. I stick to the shadows, moving with practiced stealth toward the center of the disturbance.

The source becomes clear as I draw closer - a mid-sized research facility with "Quantum Dynamics" emblazoned on its facade is partially collapsed, flames licking from shattered windows on the upper floors.

Police have established a perimeter, keeping onlookers at bay while firefighters battle the blaze.

And there, hovering above the chaos, is a familiar pink-tinged figure - Atom Eve, using her powers to contain debris and support structural elements that threaten to collapse further.

I observe from the shelter of an alleyway across the street, assessing the situation. This doesn't appear to be villian related - more likely an accident or possibly industrial sabotage.

But it's an opportunity to see Eve in action, to understand her capabilities in a crisis.

She works with impressive efficiency, coordinating seamlessly with emergency responders while using her molecular manipulation to prevent further collapse and contain hazardous materials.

This isn't a novice hero; this is someone with experience and training.

Which makes one still wonder what was different that day in the Museum?

As I watch, I consider the potential of my plan of forming an alliance with her and potentially other heroes.

With my foreknowledge of coming threats and their individual capabilities, I could help coordinate a more effective defense than what occurred in the original timeline.

I think back once more to how Rex Splode had managed to significantly damage an alternate universe version of Mark - a feat that required his sacrifice in that timeline.

It is an incredible feat no matter how many times one thinks about it - since Mark has the potential of becoming the strongest of them.

Hell, he became the Emperor of the Viltrum Empire in the comics.

With proper preparation and strategy, such desperate measures might be avoided.

The right combination of powers, deployed with tactical precision, could be far more effective than the disjointed resistance of the original timeline.

Cecil Stedman and his Global Defense Agency would inevitably be a complication - his paranoia and controlling nature would make him view my sudden emergence with suspicion.

But even that could be managed with careful positioning and selective disclosure of information.

I watch for nearly twenty minutes, gathering what intelligence I can. From overheard police communications, it seems the explosion originated in a high-security lab on the third floor.

No fatalities reported, but several researchers have been hospitalized with injuries.

When I'm satisfied there's nothing more to learn, I slip away, taking a circuitous route back toward my neighborhood.

As I walk, my phone buzzes with a text from Eve: "Home safe. Saw the news about the explosion downtown. Hope you got back okay."

Maintaining our shared fiction, even through text. I can appreciate the commitment to her cover.

"Just got in," I reply. "Heard about the explosion. Looks serious."

"Yeah," she responds a moment later. "Saw on the news that Atom Eve was helping. Good thing we have heroes in this city."

I smile slightly at her third-person reference to herself. "Good timing on her part."

There's a pause before her next message appears: "The lecture gave me some ideas for your energy control. Let's talk tomorrow?"

"Sounds good," I text back. "Goodnight, Eve."

"Goodnight, Megumi."

I pocket my phone and continue home, my mind processing the evening's events. The lecture had indeed been illuminating, both scientifically and in terms of my understanding of Eve Wilkins.

She's more perceptive, more capable than I initially gave her credit for.

And perhaps more valuable as a potential ally than I'd anticipated.

---------------------------

Sunday arrives with clear skies and mild temperatures - perfect spring weather for the dinner at the Graysons'.

I spend the morning practicing with my cursed energy techniques. 

I arrive at the Grayson house at precisely five o'clock, a bottle of sparkling cider in hand - Uncle Kenji's suggestion for a proper dinner guest contribution. Debbie answers the door with her usual warm smile.

"Megumi! Come in, come in. Mark's helping his father in the backyard, and I'm just finishing up in the kitchen."

The house smells of roasting meat and herbs, making my stomach growl appreciatively.

Even before being Sukuna I always loved food. 

I follow Debbie to the kitchen, where she accepts the cider with genuine thanks.

"This is thoughtful of you," she says, placing it in the refrigerator. "Dinner's almost ready - would you mind telling the boys to come in and wash up?"

I nod and head through the house to the back door, stepping onto a well-maintained patio that overlooks a spacious yard.

Mark and Nolan are at the far end, apparently engaged in some kind of physical training. I pause, observing.

Mark is attempting to lift what appears to be an enormous weight - something that would be impossible for a normal human. Nolan stands nearby, arms crossed, watching with a critical eye.

"You're still not focusing your strength properly," he says as Mark struggles. "It's not about the muscles - it's about channeling your power through your entire body."

"I'm trying," Mark grunts, his face red with exertion.

I realize I'm witnessing something significant - Mark's powers have manifested, and Nolan is training him in their use.

This aligns with the timeline I remember from the comics, but seeing it in person sends a chill down my spine. Events are progressing toward the inevitable confrontation.

Nolan notices me first, his head turning with the alertness of a predator sensing movement. "Ah, Megumi. Didn't hear you come out."

Mark drops the weight with a heavy thud, looking both embarrassed and relieved. "Hey! Is it dinner time already?"

"Your mother sent me to get you both," I say, keeping my expression neutral despite the scene I've just witnessed. "She says it's almost ready."

"Great!" Mark says with forced casualness. "We were just, uh, doing some yard work."

"Of course," I reply, playing along with the obvious fiction. "Heavy lifting."

Nolan studies me with that penetrating gaze that always makes me feel he can see more than he should. "Mark's been helping me with some landscaping projects. Building his strength."

"Dad thinks I should try out for the football team next year," Mark adds, the lie coming easily to him. I wonder how long he's planning to keep this secret, how many excuses he's mentally invented.

He should know I will find out - I already found out about his dad after all.

"You'd be good at it," I say, which is true enough. With Viltrumite strength, he'd dominate any human sport.

The three of us head inside, Mark and Nolan washing up while I help Debbie set the table. Dinner is served family-style - a perfectly roasted beef tenderloin, garlic mashed potatoes, fresh vegetables, and warm rolls.

It's the kind of wholesome, abundant meal that speaks of American domestic comfort - a stark contrast to the cosmic drama unfolding beneath the surface.

"So, Megumi," Nolan says as we begin eating, "Mark tells me you've been spending time with Eve Wilkins recently."

I glance at Mark, who shrugs apologetically. "We're partners on a chemistry project," I explain. "And we attended a physics lecture together on Friday."

"Eve's the science prodigy, right?" Debbie asks. "I've met her parents at school functions. Lovely people."

Really? Is it different here or are they just that good at public appearances?

"She's really smart," Mark adds. "Like, scary smart. She helps me with biology sometimes."

"A physics lecture?" Nolan raises an eyebrow. "That sounds rather advanced for high school students."

"It was at the university," I say. "Professor Zhang on quantum entanglement. Eve follows his research."

"Ambitious," Nolan comments, his tone suggesting approval. "It's good to see young people taking initiative with their education."

The conversation flows from there to more general topics - school events, local news, Debbie's work with a community garden project.

Throughout it all, I as always observe the family dynamics with careful attention.

Mark seems more confident than in previous interactions, perhaps empowered by his newly manifested abilities. Debbie is as warm and engaging as ever, clearly delighting in having her family together for a meal. And Nolan...

Nolan is harder to read. He plays the role of devoted husband and father with convincing skill, but I catch moments - a distant look, a slight pause before responding to domestic matters - that hint at his true nature.

His attention to Mark has intensified, though subtly. He's preparing his son, grooming him perhaps to join his conquest.

After dinner, while Debbie serves dessert - a homemade apple pie that smells magnificient - Nolan steers the conversation in an unexpected direction.

"I heard about that explosion at Quantum Dynamics the other night," he says, his tone casual but his eyes alert. "Nasty business. I was out of town, but the news coverage showed significant damage."

"Yeah, it looked bad," Mark agrees. "Atom Eve was there helping, though."

"Indeed," Nolan says thoughtfully. "These powered individuals are becoming more prevalent. Some with impressive abilities." His gaze shifts to me. "What do you think about that, Megumi? This rise of superhumans in our society?"

The question feels like a test, though of what I'm not certain. Does he know about my abilities somehow?

I consider my response carefully.

"I think power always exists," I say finally.

"Throughout history, there have been individuals with advantages - whether that's strength, intelligence, wealth, or political influence. What matters is how they use those advantages."

Nolan's expression remains neutral, but something in his eyes sharpens. "And how should they use them, in your view?"

"Responsibly," I reply, meeting his gaze steadily. "With an understanding that greater power brings greater impact, for better or worse."

"A diplomatic answer," he says with a slight smile.

"But surely you must have an opinion on whether these powered individuals should be operating independently, outside traditional authority structures?"

Now I see where he's going - probing my views on superhero autonomy versus government control. It's a political question with personal implications for everyone at this table.

Is he trying to subtly use me - as someone Mark trusts as eventual support of his own views? 

"I think systems exist for a reason," I say carefully.

"But systems can be flawed, corrupt, or simply inadequate for new challenges. Sometimes individuals need to act according to their own judgment."

"Even if that judgment conflicts with established laws?" Nolan presses.

"Laws aren't always just," I counter. "They're made by people with limited perspectives and often serve those already in power."

"Dad, are we really having a political debate over dessert?" Mark interjects, looking uncomfortable.

Debbie laughs lightly. "Your father can't help himself. Once a topic interests him, he's like a dog with a bone."

Nolan smiles, the intensity in his expression receding. "Just engaging in philosophical discussion. Megumi has interesting perspectives."

The conversation shifts to lighter topics after that, but I'm left with the distinct impression that I've revealed more to Nolan than I intended - or perhaps exactly what I needed to.

The exchange feels significant, though I'm still not yet exactly sure how.

As the evening winds down, Mark suggests showing me a new video game in his room - an obvious ploy to speak privately. Once upstairs with the door closed, he turns to me with an anxious expression.

"Sorry about my dad's interrogation," he says in a low voice. "He gets like that sometimes."

"It's fine," I assure him. "He's just curious."

Mark hesitates, then says, "There's something I need to tell you. Something big."

Ah, I may have overestimated Mark's desire to hide his new situation from me. 

"I... I have powers now," he says finally, his voice a mixture of excitement and apprehension. "Like my dad. They started manifesting a couple weeks ago."

I feign surprise, though not shock. "That explains the 'yard work' I saw earlier."

He nods eagerly. "Dad's been training me. It's intense, but amazing. I can fly, Megumi. And I'm super strong, and nearly invulnerable."

"Viltrumite heritage," I say, nodding in understanding.

"Yeah," Mark confirms, a hint of pride in his voice. "Dad's always been talking about how it will be like being a Viltrumite, but it's different actually having the powers myself."

It's interesting how the world accepts Nolan's narrative so completely.

Everyone knows Omni-Man is a Viltrumite from the planet Viltrum, sent to Earth as a protector and guardian.

The public image is one of noble aliens with a mission to help less developed worlds - a story Nolan has carefully cultivated over decades.

No one suspects the truth: that Viltrumites are conquerors, not saviors, and that Earth is just another target for their empire.

An important target at that - a breeding ground, since their race has dwindeled to less than a hundred - Mark's compatibility with their DNA is proof that earth is the best planet for their species to repopulate.

"What's it like?" I ask, genuinely curious about Mark's experience. "Having that kind of power suddenly manifest?"

"It's wild," he admits. "One day I'm normal, the next I'm lifting cars and flying. Dad says I'll get used to it, that it'll become second nature."

"What are you going to do with them?" I ask, genuinely curious about his intentions at this stage.

His face lights up. "I want to be a hero, like my dad. Help people, save lives. He's going to help me design a costume and everything."

The innocence in his enthusiasm is both touching and tragic. He has no idea what's coming, no concept of his father's true mission or the conflict that awaits them.

"That's... big," I say, unsure how else to respond.

"I know." He sits on the edge of his bed, suddenly serious.

"I haven't told anyone else. Not even William. But since you already know about my dad, and you have your own abilities... I wanted you to know."

I'm touched by his trust, even as I recognize the strategic value of being in his confidence during this critical period.

"I appreciate that," I tell him sincerely. "And I'm here if you need to talk about it. Just don't rush anything. New abilities will take time to get familiar with, believe me."

"That's basically what Dad says, though he's pushing pretty hard with the training." Mark glances at the door, lowering his voice further.

"Between you and me, I think he's got big plans. He keeps talking about legacy and responsibility to the greater good."

That sounds ominous, though not unexpected. I wonder - if the Immortal didn't get in the way, Cecil didn't find out - what exactly was the narrative Nolan would've constructed for his son - how much truth mixed with how many lies.

"Just make sure whatever you do with these powers is your choice," I say carefully. "Not anyone else's."

Mark looks at me curiously. "That's an odd thing to say."

I shrug, trying to appear casual. "Power attracts people who want to direct it for their own purposes. Even people who care about you might have their own agendas."

"You mean my dad?" He sounds defensive now.

"I mean anyone," I clarify, backpedaling slightly. "Parents, teachers, governments. Everyone has their own idea of how power should be used."

He considers this, then nods slowly. "I guess that makes sense. But my dad's Omni-Man. He knows what he's doing."

"Of course," I agree, letting the subject drop. Pushing further would only raise suspicions. "So when do you make your debut as... what's your hero name going to be?"

The conversation shifts to lighter territory - costume designs, potential names, the logistics of balancing superheroics with high school.

Mark is full of excitement and plans, and I listen with a mixture of genuine interest and strategic assessment.

The more I know about his development, the better prepared I'll be when everything falls apart.

As we talk, a new idea begins to form in my mind. Perhaps I should consider a more active approach to building alliances - not just with Eve, but potentially with other heroes as well.

If Mark is going to enter the hero community, having a presence there myself could provide valuable insights and connections.

The thought of dealing with Cecil Stedman and his bureaucratic machinations is once again not appealing, but the potential strategic advantages might outweigh the annoyances.

With my foreknowledge and abilities, I could truly potentially guide events in a more favorable direction than they took in the original timeline.

Eventually, Debbie calls up that it's getting late, and I should probably head home before curfew. I say my goodbyes, thanking the Graysons for their hospitality.

Nolan shakes my hand at the door, his grip like always firm but carefully modulated - the control of someone who could crush bones to powder with minimal effort.

"Always good to have you, Megumi," he says. "Our discussions are stimulating."

"Thank you for having me, sir," I reply, maintaining the respectful demeanor expected from a teenager addressing an adult.

"Perhaps next time we can continue our conversation about power and responsibility," he suggests with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I find your perspective... refreshing."

The comment feels loaded with unspoken meaning, but I simply nod. "I'd like that."

As I walk home through the quiet suburban streets, I process the evening's revelations. Mark's powers have manifested, and Nolan is actively training him - which means the timeline is accelerating.

The confrontation between father and son, the revelation of the Viltrumite agenda, the violence that will tear this family apart - all of it is approaching faster than I'd anticipated.

I need to accelerate my own preparations. The cursed energy techniques are developing well, but I need more power, more strategic advantages before the crisis breaks.

And I need allies - people who might stand with me when the world starts falling apart.

The hero community, with all its flawed and complex individuals, represents a potential resource that I simply can't afford to ignore anymore.

Rex Splode, Monster Girl, Black Samson, Robot, Dupli-Kate, Shrinking Ray - each with unique abilities that could be leveraged more effectively with proper coordination and strategy.

In the original timeline, many of these heroes died needlessly, their potential wasted due to lack of preparation and coordination.

I truly might be able to change that outcome - to harness their abilities in ways that maximize their effectiveness against the Viltrumite threat.

My thoughts turn to Eve. With her molecular manipulation abilities and her obvious intelligence, she could be a valuable first connection to this community. But that would require trust, disclosure, a level of vulnerability I'm not sure I'm prepared to risk.

As I reach my apartment building, my phone buzzes with a text. It's from Eve: "Hope dinner with the Graysons went well. Still on for our study session tomorrow?"

I smile slightly at the timing. "Dinner was interesting. And yes, still on for tomorrow. I have some new insights from the lecture to discuss."

Her reply comes quickly: "Looking forward to it. Goodnight, Megumi."

"Goodnight, Eve," I text back.

I enter the quiet apartment, finding a note from Uncle Kenji saying he's been called in for an emergency shift at the hospital.

The solitude is welcome - I have much to consider, plans to adjust, strategies to develop.

As I prepare for bed, I can't shake the feeling that I'm balancing on the edge of a precipice.

Events are accelerating, pieces moving into position for a confrontation that will reshape this world. And somehow, I've become a player in this cosmic drama rather than merely an observer.

I suppose I need to accept my title once more. The people will whisper it once more.

The Honoured One

-------------------------

(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter!

So, what is it that interests Nolan about Megumi?

Do you have any ideas?

Keep in mind this is an AU, and I will focus more on Hell being a somewhat known thing.

Also, the title of Honoured One is one truly given in JJK to Sukuna by the Narrator himself, that's why I refer to him in this fic by that as well.

So yeah, I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)