Obsession

Eve's pov:

The molecular structure of obsession isn't so different from that of water. Both appear transparent at first glance.

Both can sustain life or destroy it, depending on their application. Both can change states - from liquid calm to frozen stillness to vapor that permeates everything, invisible yet omnipresent.

God, I'm even thinking in scientific metaphors now. That's what happens when you spend sixteen hours a day in a basement lab with nothing but quantum equations for company.

I've been studying obsession lately.

Not academically - though I could totally frame it that way if anyone asked - but as personal research. Self-observation, you might say. A phenomenon I never expected to experience firsthand.

My lab has become my sanctuary over the past weeks.

The familiar equipment, the meticulously organized samples, the data charts covering the walls - they provide a comforting structure to my increasingly chaotic thoughts.

Tonight, I sit before my primary workstation, supposedly analyzing energy readings from our latest encounter with Wexler's mercenaries.

But my attention keeps drifting to the secondary monitor, where a different kind of data streams in real-time.

Megumi is on patrol tonight.

Alone.

I designed the tracking system myself - a network of nanoscale transmitters incorporated into our team communicators.

"For safety purposes," I explained when I introduced the technology. "So we can locate each other in emergencies." Everyone agreed it was sensible, practical.

No one questioned why the trackers also monitor vital signs, or why the data feeds directly to my private terminal.

Honestly, people will accept any invasion of privacy if you wrap it in enough technical jargon and a veneer of practicality. It's almost disappointing how easy it was.

The glowing dot representing Megumi moves methodically across the city grid, his vital signs stable, his movements purposeful.

Watching him like this brings a sense of... security? No, that's not right. Satisfaction. Knowledge is control, after all. And I need to know he's safe.

I minimize the tracking window as my phone buzzes with a text from Mark:

"Hey Eve, you coming to training tomorrow? Rex wants to run that new tactical formation."

My fingers hover over the keyboard. Mark. Always Mark.

It's not that I dislike him. He's earnest and good-hearted, if somewhat naïve.

But lately, I've found myself cataloging the hours Megumi spends with him versus the hours he spends with me. The data is... unsatisfactory.

"I'll be there," I reply, keeping it brief. "Working on something important right now."

I return to the energy analysis, trying to focus on the actual work at hand.

The readings from Megumi's - Sukuna's - energy output during our last mission show patterns I still can't fully explain with conventional physics.

The energy itself defies classification - not electromagnetic, not nuclear, not any known fundamental force.

It's beautiful in its complexity. Like him.

Ugh, listen to me. That's embarrassingly poetic for a scientist. Maybe I should get more sleep. Or less. I'm not sure which would help at this point.

My mind drifts back to that day in the museum, when I froze.

When panic paralyzed me while civilians were in danger. When Megumi acted with decisive clarity, his movements precise and controlled while I stood helpless.

I've replayed that moment countless times in my mind. The shame of my failure. The awe at his capability. The realization that he saw me at my weakest and didn't judge me for it.

No one has ever seen me fail like that and still valued me afterward. Not my parents with their relentless academic expectations.

Not my "best friend" in middle school who exposed my powers the moment I trusted her. Not even the Teen Team, who only see Atom Eve, never the scared girl beneath the molecules.

But he saw. And he stayed.

The tracking dot changes direction suddenly, moving with increased speed toward the financial district.

Something's happening. I switch screens, accessing the police band frequencies.

"...armed suspects at Quantum Dynamics corporate headquarters. Security breach in progress, requesting immediate backup..."

Quantum Dynamics. The same company targeted in the previous incidents. This must be Wexler's team making their move for the final component.

Protocol dictates I should alert the entire team. Instead, my finger hovers over the individual communication channel. Just to Megumi. He's already responding, already closest to the scene.

We could handle this together. Just the two of us.

Oh my god, Eve, get a grip. The mission is too important for your weird... whatever this is.

I hesitate, then reluctantly activate the team-wide alert. "Quantum Dynamics under attack," I transmit. "Likely Wexler's team after the synchronization module. Sukuna already en route. Converge on location."

I grab my jacket and head for the stairs, my molecules already rearranging beneath my clothing to form my costume. By the time I reach the back door, Atom Eve is ready to take flight.

The night air rushes past as I soar toward the financial district, pink energy propelling me forward.

The rational part of my brain focuses on tactical considerations - entry points, potential hostage situations, containment strategies.

But beneath that professional analysis runs a different current of thought: I'll see him soon. I'll fight alongside him. He'll see my competence this time, not my failure.

I sound like a teenager with a crush. Except normal crushes don't involve detailed surveillance systems and molecular-level analysis of the subject's biological responses.

This is... something else. Something I don't have a scientific classification for yet.

I arrive at Quantum Dynamics to find chaos. The sleek corporate headquarters is partially damaged, a section of the eastern wall blown open.

Police have established a perimeter but are maintaining distance - smart, given the presumed capabilities of Wexler's technology.

Megumi - Sukuna in his hero persona - is already there, a dark figure moving with lethal grace through the shadows near the breach.

I descend to join him, creating a small platform of energy beneath my feet to hover just above the ground.

"Situation?" I ask, keeping my voice professionally detached despite the acceleration of my pulse at his proximity.

Thank god for molecular control that lets me modulate my voice perfectly, hiding the ridiculous flutter in my chest.

"Six armed operatives, military precision, advanced tech," he replies without looking away from the building, his voice carrying that distinctive calm authority.

"They've neutralized the security systems and have control of the main laboratory on the fifth floor. No confirmed hostages, but the night shift would have at least three researchers on duty."

His analysis is flawless, as always. No wasted words, no unnecessary emotion. Just pure tactical efficiency. It's like watching a perfect chemical reaction unfold - every element in its place, nothing extraneous.

"The others are three minutes out," I inform him. "Do we wait?"

Now he turns to me, his expression unreadable behind his mask. "The longer we wait, the more likely they secure the module and escape." A slight pause. "Your call."

My call. He's deferring to me despite having seniority in this situation. The trust implicit in that gesture sends a warm current through my chest. It shouldn't mean this much to me, but it does.

"We go in," I decide. "I'll create diversionary pressure at the main breach while you infiltrate through the ventilation system on the north side.

If you can locate the hostages, prioritize their safety. I'll focus on containing the technology."

He nods once, approving my strategy. "Efficient. Let's move."

We separate, each heading to our designated entry points.

As I prepare to create a flashy display at the breach site - something to draw attention while Megumi slips in unnoticed - I find myself already calculating how to maximize our time alone before the rest of the team arrives.

The thought brings me up short. This is a mission. Lives are at stake. The quantum technology in play could devastate the city if weaponized. My focus should be absolute.

And yet...

I create a brilliant surge of pink energy, directing it through the breach in a display that would make Rex proud in its theatricality. Shouts of alarm echo from inside as the mercenaries react to this new threat.

"Attention Quantum Dynamics intruders," I project my voice with energy manipulation, making it seem to come from multiple directions at once. "You are surrounded by the Teen Team. Surrender the technology and release any hostages."

The response is immediate - gunfire erupts from the breach, bullets dissolving harmlessly against my molecular shield.

I return fire with precise energy blasts, careful to disable rather than harm.

Through our communicator link, I hear Megumi's steady breathing as he navigates the ventilation system.

The sound is oddly intimate in my ear, and I find myself synchronizing my own breathing to his rhythm. In, out. In, out.

Our molecules exchanging oxygen and carbon dioxide in perfect tandem, separated by distance but connected by technology.

"In position," he murmurs after a minute. "Three hostages confirmed, bound but unharmed. Six operatives, heavily armed. The module is being removed from its housing now."

"Can you secure the hostages without being detected?" I ask.

"Yes." His voice carries absolute certainty. "But I'll need a more significant distraction to extract them safely."

"Understood. On my mark." I gather energy, preparing for a more aggressive entry. My molecules sing with potential energy, eager to be unleashed. "Three, two, one. Mark."

I unleash a controlled explosion of energy that blows the damaged wall section inward, creating a storm of debris and pink light.

Simultaneously, I hear Megumi moving through the comms, the soft sound of his technique - "Dismantle" - barely audible as he presumably cuts through the hostages' restraints.

The next few minutes are a blur of coordinated action.

I engage the mercenaries directly, using my powers to create barriers, deflect weapons, and generally command their complete attention.

Meanwhile, Megumi extracts the hostages with silent efficiency, getting them to safety before rejoining the fight.

When he reappears, it's like watching a shadow gain substance.

One moment the mercenaries are focused on me, the next they're falling to precisely applied strikes as Megumi moves among them with supernatural speed.

"Such tedious opposition," I hear him mutter under his breath as he disables two mercenaries with what appears to be minimal effort.

There's something almost... dismissive in his tone. Like a chess master annoyed by an amateur's predictable moves.

The efficiency of our teamwork is exhilarating. We anticipate each other's movements without needing to communicate, creating openings for each other with practiced ease.

It's like a dance where both partners instinctively know the next step.

I've never experienced synchronicity like this with anyone else on the team.

Not with Rex's ego always demanding center stage. Not with Kate's sometimes scattered focus. Certainly not with Mark's well-intentioned but often clumsy approach.

This is different. This is perfect.

Five of the six mercenaries are subdued within minutes. The sixth - clearly the leader - makes a break for the laboratory's far exit, clutching what must be the synchronization module.

"I've got him," I call, moving to intercept.

"No," Megumi counters, already in motion. "Secure these five. I'll retrieve the module."

He disappears through the doorway in pursuit before I can respond.

Something tight and uncomfortable coils in my chest at being left behind, at being assigned the cleanup while he handles the critical component alone.

Did I do something wrong? Was my performance inadequate? The questions spiral through my mind, unwelcome and intrusive.

I push the feeling aside, focusing on restraining the subdued mercenaries with energy constructs.

By the time Rex and Kate arrive moments later, I've secured the area and am examining the laboratory equipment for additional clues about Wexler's plans.

"Situation?" Rex demands, always needing to reassert authority when he's not first on scene. God, his ego is exhausting sometimes.

"Hostages secure, five suspects contained," I report professionally. "Sukuna is in pursuit of the sixth, who has the synchronization module."

Rex scowls slightly at having missed the main action. "We'll secure the perimeter. Where's Mark?"

"Handling another incident uptown," Kate reminds him, her duplicates already moving to take custody of the mercenaries.

My communicator activates. "Module secured," Megumi's voice reports. "Suspect subdued. East stairwell, second floor."

"I'll go," I say immediately, moving toward the exit before Rex can volunteer. My molecules practically vibrate with eagerness to rejoin him.

"We've got this covered," Rex calls after me, but I'm already gone, flying down to the second floor with perhaps more speed than strictly necessary.

I find Megumi in the stairwell as reported, the unconscious mercenary leader at his feet and a small metallic device - the synchronization module - in his hand.

He stands untouched, not a hair out of place, exuding that effortless control that fascinates me so deeply.

The mercenary, by contrast, looks like he's been through a natural disaster - unconscious, clothing torn, a perfect demonstration of the gap between ordinary humans and whatever Megumi truly is.

"You handled him easily," I observe, unable to keep the admiration from my voice as I approach.

"He was unprepared for my capabilities," Megumi replies with a slight curl of his lip. "These mercenaries overestimate themselves. The module is intact."

I move closer, drawn to him like a molecule seeking its most stable bond. "May I?" I ask, gesturing to the device.

He hands it to me, our fingers brushing momentarily.

Even that fleeting contact sends a rush of data to my senses - his body temperature slightly elevated from exertion, his energy signature pulsing with controlled power, his molecular structure unlike anything I've ever analyzed.

I examine the module, focusing on its construction to distract myself from my inappropriate fascination with his biometrics. "The quantum entanglement matrix appears undamaged. This would have been the final component Wexler needed."

"With this secured, his weapon can't be completed," Megumi notes, his tone carrying that distinctive blend of confidence and dismissal.

"Unless he has another way to acquire one," I point out. Always consider alternative hypotheses - basic scientific method.

"Unlikely. There are only three in existence, and the other two are now under heightened security after our warning."

He adjusts his stance slightly, a subtle shift that somehow commands more space. "Wexler lacks the resources to overcome such obstacles."

I nod, studying the device. "We should get this to Ray for analysis. She might give us insight into exactly what Wexler was planning."

"Agreed." He takes back the module, his movements precise and efficient as he secures it in a specialized compartment of his utility belt. "Shall we join the others?"

We return to the main laboratory, where Rex is coordinating with police for the transfer of prisoners while Kate secures evidence.

The efficiency of the cleanup operation allows us to depart within the hour, the module safely in our possession and Wexler's operation effectively dismantled.

Back at headquarters, Ray practically vibrates with excitement as she examines the synchronization module, muttering technical specifications and theoretical applications while the rest of us debrief.

Her enthusiasm for technology is endearing, if sometimes overwhelming. At least she appreciates the beauty of quantum mechanics.

"So that's it?" Mark asks, having joined us after completing his own mission uptown. "Wexler's plan is stopped?"

"The immediate threat is neutralized," Megumi confirms, leaning against the wall with casual grace. "But Wexler himself remains at large."

"We should celebrate anyway," Rex declares. "Stopping a quantum weapon from being assembled counts as a win in my book."

The suggestion of a team celebration would normally appeal to me, but tonight I find myself calculating how to create a more exclusive interaction.

Just Megumi and me, discussing the implications of the technology without Rex's bombastic interruptions or Mark's well-meaning but simplistic questions.

"Before any celebrating, we should analyze the module thoroughly," I suggest. "I can help Ray with the technical aspects."

"I'll assist as well," Megumi offers. "There may be tactical insights to be gained from its design."

Mark looks between us, something like suspicion flickering across his features. "Since when are you two so interested in the technical details? Usually you leave that to Ray."

My heart rate accelerates slightly. Is he noticing the pattern? The way I've been orchestrating situations to work more closely with Megumi? I need to be more careful.

"Professional development," I reply smoothly. "Expanding my knowledge base."

Mark doesn't look entirely convinced, but he shrugs. "Well, while you three are geeking out over quantum tech, the rest of us will be at Crusty's Pizza celebrating like normal people. Join when you're done?"

"We'll see," I say noncommittally. The probability of me voluntarily cutting short time with Megumi to eat greasy pizza with Rex and Kate is approximately zero percent, but no need to make that obvious.

The team disperses, Rex, Kate, and Mark heading out for celebration while Ray, Megumi, and I remain with the module.

It's exactly the arrangement I'd hoped for - Ray is so absorbed in the technology that she barely registers our presence, creating a functional privacy despite her physical presence.

As Ray hunches over her workstation, muttering excitedly to herself, I move closer to Megumi.

"Your technique today was flawless," I observe quietly. "The way you neutralized that mercenary leader without even exerting yourself - it was remarkable."

"He posed no significant challenge," he replies, something almost like boredom in his tone. "Mercenaries rely too heavily on their weapons, neglecting to develop their own inherent capabilities."

"Still," I persist, "the precision of your movements, the economy of force - it's fascinating from a scientific perspective."

His eyes shift to me, a flicker of interest replacing the dismissal. "And your barrier work has become more sophisticated.

The way you contained the explosive force while still allowing visibility was... impressive."

The compliment sends a warm current through me, more satisfying than it should be. My cheeks heat slightly, and I'm grateful for the dim lighting of the lab.

"I've been experimenting with selective molecular permeability. Different vibrational frequencies allow for-" I catch myself before launching into a full technical explanation.

"Sorry. I get carried away with the science sometimes."

"No need to apologize," he says, and I swear there's the faintest hint of amusement in his voice. "Precision in understanding leads to precision in application."

We fall into a comfortable silence, observing Ray's analysis while occasionally offering technical suggestions. After about an hour, she looks up as if suddenly remembering we're there.

"This will take all night," she announces, pushing her glasses up her nose. "The quantum entanglement properties alone require extensive mapping. You two might as well join the others."

"I'm not particularly in a celebratory mood," Megumi says, his tone making it clear that pizza with the team ranks somewhere below dental surgery on his list of preferred activities.

"Neither am I," I add quickly - too quickly? "But I am hungry. We could grab something more substantial than pizza?"

Megumi considers this for a moment, then nods. "That would be acceptable."

My pulse quickens at his agreement. A perfect experimental condition - just the two of us, away from the team's watchful eyes. "There's a good Thai place a few blocks from here. Still open late."

We leave Ray to her enthusiastic analysis, changing out of our costumes in the separate locker rooms before meeting at the exit in civilian clothes. The night air is cool as we walk, the streets relatively quiet at this late hour.

"You were thinking several moves ahead tonight," Megumi observes as we walk. "The distraction, the hostage extraction plan, the containment strategy. All of it precisely calibrated."

"I've been studying your tactical approach," I admit. "The efficiency of it appeals to me." That's an understatement.

I've been analyzing his every move, creating spreadsheets of his tactical choices, looking for patterns I can incorporate into my own methodology.

"You've always been efficient," he counters. "But lately there's been a different quality to your strategy. More... comprehensive."

Is he noticing the changes in me? The way my thinking has been evolving, becoming more focused on certain priorities?

I'm not sure if this pleases or concerns me. I don't want to be transparent, but I do want him to see me. Really see me.

"I've been reconsidering my approach to problem-solving," I say carefully. "Looking at longer-term patterns rather than immediate solutions."

He nods, seeming to approve. "A valuable perspective. Most humans-" he pauses, correcting himself, "-most people focus too narrowly on immediate outcomes."

We reach the restaurant and are seated in a quiet corner booth.

After ordering, I find myself studying him more openly than usual, cataloging the precise angle of his jawline, the way his eyes scan the room in a habitual security assessment, the controlled economy of his movements.

I could watch him for hours. Days. The data set never stops being interesting.

"You're observing me," he notes without looking directly at me.

Caught. I don't look away. "Yes."

"May I ask why?"

I consider several possible answers, weighing their potential impact. The truth feels too revealing, too soon. "Professional curiosity.

Your physical capabilities exceed normal human parameters, yet you move with more natural fluidity than Mark, despite his Viltrumite genetics."

"Different energy source, different application," he explains, a hint of pride entering his voice.

"Mark's strength comes from his cellular structure. Mine comes from channeling and directing energy through existing pathways. Brute force versus refined technique."

"Like my molecular manipulation," I suggest, leaning forward slightly. The parallel between our abilities is something I've been considering extensively. We're more alike than different, fundamentally.

"Similar in concept, different in execution." He studies me with those intense eyes. "Your control is... exceptional for one so young."

The compliment catches me off guard, sending a flush of pleasure through my system that's embarrassingly strong. "I've had my abilities since childhood. Lots of practice."

Our food arrives, temporarily pausing the conversation.

As we eat, I find myself noting his preferences - the order in which he samples different dishes, which flavors he seems to favor, how he holds his chopsticks with precise control.

Each detail gets filed away in my mental database, adding to my understanding of him.

"The team dynamic has shifted since you joined," I observe after a while. "More focused, less chaotic."

"Rex still enjoys his theatrics," Megumi points out with the barest hint of amusement, though there's something dismissive in the way he says Rex's name.

"Yes, but even he's become more strategic. Your influence has been... significant." Not just on the team, but on me specifically.

He's changed how I think, how I approach problems, how I view the world. Like a catalyst in a chemical reaction, accelerating transformations without being consumed himself.

He studies me for a moment. "You've been the most receptive to tactical refinement. The others follow your lead more than they realize."

The observation pleases me more than it should. The idea that he's noticed my influence, that he sees me as distinct from the others - it feeds something hungry inside me.

Something that's been starved for recognition, for connection, for someone who truly sees.

"We work well together," I say, the understatement deliberate.

"We do," he agrees. "Our capabilities complement each other effectively. Unlike some partnerships where abilities merely exist in parallel, ours enhance each other."

I want to pursue this line of conversation further, to explore the unique connection I feel forming between us, but his communicator buzzes. He checks it with a slight frown.

"Mark," he explains, and I swear there's a note of irritation in his voice. "Wondering if we're joining them at Crusty's."

Something cold and sharp twists inside me. Mark. Always Mark, inserting himself between us. Always wanting Megumi's attention, his time, his friendship.

As if he doesn't already have everything else - loving parents, innate powers, universal popularity.

"Are we?" I ask, keeping my tone neutral despite the sudden tension in my body.

Megumi considers for a moment. "It would be the socially expected choice."

"But not your preference," I observe, reading his subtle expressions with increasing accuracy. I've been cataloging his microexpressions, correlating them with context and outcomes. I'm getting better at predicting his responses.

"I find I prefer more... substantive conversation," he admits, his eyes meeting mine with unexpected directness.

The cold feeling dissolves, replaced by a warm satisfaction. "As do I."

He texts something brief in response to Mark, then puts his communicator away. "I informed him we're otherwise engaged."

Otherwise engaged. With me. Not with the team, not with Mark. The exclusivity of it sends a pleasant current through my system.

It's a data point that supports my hypothesis - he values our interactions, seeks them out, chooses them over alternatives.

"We should discuss the Wexler situation further," I suggest, providing a professional justification for extending our time together. "Even with the module secured, he remains a threat."

"Agreed. His resources are substantial, and his determination has been demonstrated repeatedly." Megumi leans forward slightly. "Such persistence is almost... admirable, in its way. Misguided, but not without a certain resolve."

We spend the next hour in deep conversation about potential next steps, contingency plans, and preventative measures.

Throughout, I find myself noting how rarely I need to explain my reasoning to him - how quickly he grasps concepts that I would have to break down extensively for the others.

It's exhilarating, this mental synchronicity. Like finding a perfect resonance frequency after years of discordant interactions.

Like discovering a molecule that bonds perfectly with your own atomic structure, forming something stronger than either could be alone.

When we finally leave the restaurant, it's past midnight. The streets are nearly empty, the city quiet under a canopy of stars partially obscured by light pollution.

"I'll walk you home," he offers, surprising me slightly with the conventional courtesy.

"That's not necessary," I say automatically, then immediately regret it. Stupid! More data collection opportunities! "But I wouldn't object to the company."

We walk in comfortable silence for several blocks.

I'm acutely aware of his presence beside me, the precise distance between us as we move, the way other late-night pedestrians give him a slightly wider berth without seeming to realize they're doing it.

His energy signature affects others subconsciously- another fascinating variable to study.

"You never explained the full meaning of your hero name," I say as we near my neighborhood. "Sukuna. You mentioned the last kanji of your name means 'driving out evil spirits,' but there's more to it, isn't there?"

He glances at me, something like appreciation in his expression. "You've researched it."

"I research everything that interests me," I admit, perhaps revealing too much. But the slight widening of his eyes suggests he's pleased by my interest, not alarmed by it. Good.

"In Japanese folklore, Sukuna is a complex figure," he explains after a moment, his voice taking on a different quality - deeper, more resonant.

"Sometimes depicted as a two-faced specter, sometimes as a demon, sometimes as a protective deity. The duality appealed to me."

"The protector with the capacity for destruction," I observe. "It suits you."

"Does it?" There's a genuine question in his tone, but also something else - a hint of amusement, as if at a private joke.

"You contain multitudes," I say simply. "I've seen your precision in combat, the calculated application of force.

But I've also seen the restraint, the protection of innocents. The duality is... compelling."

We reach my house, stopping at the front gate. The porch light casts soft shadows across his features, highlighting the angular perfection of his face.

I could study those shadows for hours, the interplay of light and dark, the way they emphasize the complexity of his features.

"Thank you for the conversation," he says. "It was... refreshing."

"We should do this again," I suggest, trying to keep the eagerness from my voice. "There are other tactical matters we could discuss more efficiently without the full team present."

He nods. "A logical approach. Perhaps after the surveillance shift tomorrow?"

"Perfect." The word comes out more intensely than I intended. I need to maintain better control. Can't let him see how much this means to me. Not yet.

He studies me for a moment longer than necessary, something unreadable in his expression. "Goodnight, Eve."

"Goodnight, Megumi."

I watch him walk away, tracking his movement until he turns the corner and disappears from sight. Only then do I enter my house, moving silently through the darkened rooms to my basement laboratory.

The tracking system shows me his progress home - the steady movement of the glowing dot across the city grid, his vital signs calm and regular.

I watch until the dot stops at his apartment building, until his heart rate slows to the rhythm of sleep.

Only then do I turn to my workbench, pulling out a special project I've been developing in private. A network of nanoscale sensors, more sophisticated than the trackers in our communicators.

These can monitor not just location and vital signs, but proximity to others, conversation patterns, even rudimentary emotional indicators through biochemical analysis.

For the team's safety, I'll tell them when I eventually implement this system. For tactical efficiency. For mission success rates.

That's what I'll tell them, anyway.

But as I calibrate the primary sensor - the one designed specifically to monitor Megumi - I acknowledge to myself that my motivations have become more complex than mere team safety.

I need to know where he is at all times. Who he's with. What he's doing. Not just for tactical reasons, but because the thought of not knowing creates an uncomfortable hollow sensation in my chest.

Like a chemical imbalance I can't correct, a molecular structure missing a crucial element.

The rational part of my mind recognizes this as problematic. As a potential vulnerability in my psychological architecture.

As something that could compromise my effectiveness if not properly managed.

But another part - growing stronger each day - whispers that this is simply the natural evolution of my understanding.

That Megumi represents something unique and valuable that must be studied, protected, preserved.

Kept.

For it's just good science after all.

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

(Author note: Hello everyone! I hope you all liked the chapter!

So... I'm experimenting. I'm thinking of making Eve a yandere for Sukuna. It's the only way I see them working together and I see it being logically possibly because of Eve's traumatic backstory -

having her be constantly rejected, and not supported, even by her parents - with now Sukuna, a person like her in the sense of having powers, him trusting her with his secret - she seeing it not relevant - makes it logical I believe for her to slowly develop an obsession.

Especially one as scientific and all that, with framing it because of her wanting to understand his uniqueness.

So yeah, do tell me how you found it and I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)