Natasha was no Batman. She had absolutely no objection to human enhancement.
Getting beaten by Batroc the Leaper during that last mission had come down to one thing: his base physical stats outstripped hers. Part of that was biology—his base physical stats outstripped hers. It had cost her. With enhancement? She could've snapped his legs like kindling.
"What kind of ceiling are we talking?" Natasha asked, eyes bright with interest. "Like Captain America?"
Bella had been in this world for over two years and had yet to meet Captain America, which made benchmarking that comparison tricky. The version of Cap who could trade blows with Thanos was in a completely different league than anything a viral enhancement could offer. But the baseline Cap—day-to-day performance—was probably in the right neighborhood.
She skipped the absurd combat highlights. "Should be roughly similar."
"Then I'm not turning that down. When can I have it?"
Bella ran through the timeline in her head. "About three months. Right around when I finish the Japan exchange program."
Natasha's enthusiasm immediately halved. "That long?"
Bella just smiled and said nothing. She was planning to have Weyland's scientists run two more rounds of genetic calibration against Natasha's cell samples first. Something this significant deserved caution.
While they were on the subject of enhancement, Bella remembered the organization the female researcher had tried to recruit her into.
"Can you help me look into something?" she asked Natasha. "Who are they exactly? Is it purely a research group?"
"Giant sea monsters?" Natasha's eyes lit up. Her lips curved with a gleam that had nothing to do with professional interest. She clearly loved this kind of thing—it sounded even more exciting than S.H.I.E.L.D. work. She was halfway to asking whether the research group was hiring.
Bella knew her too well. "Don't even think about it. If it's a legitimate research organization, I'm already small fry as an undergrad. You'd be even further down the list."
Natasha made a sound of displeasure, aware that she'd spread herself across too many disciplines to go deep into any of them. Not that she'd ever planned to become an academic. Bella's words landed squarely.
Still... it was just credentials, wasn't it? She could forge an FBI badge. A diploma was nothing.
She was genuinely curious about this organization. And the more Bella tried to wave her off, the more determined she became.
She kept her expression deliberately flat. "Fine. I'll look into it. But if there happens to be a..."
Bella met her eyes. "If there happens to be a sea monster, I'll haul it back to Los Angeles and let you keep it in your bedroom?"
"Charlie and Samantha are having a baby now," Natasha said reasonably. "Why are we still freeloading at the house? We could buy a place. Somewhere with more... room."
Bella stared at her. "We? You have money? You mean I'm buying."
"Same difference. Don't be stingy."
"I'm broke. I'm a humble, hard-working student with a simple, honest life—"
While they were bickering, Charlie came back through the door with Samantha on his arm, beaming.
The two sisters immediately swarmed Samantha—asking how she was feeling, leaning in to press an ear against her belly, pulling faces at it.
The bump was becoming visible now. Samantha looked radiant. Charlie looked proud—and also like a man who had surrendered a noticeable amount of hair over the past year. The formerly thick head of it had thinned considerably.
Bella put on her most warmly neutral smile. "So—have you thought of a name yet? Can you tell the gender?"
Charlie and Samantha exchanged a deep, syrupy look. The sweetness of it was thick enough that both Bella and Natasha felt faintly superfluous standing there. Clearly, they should excuse themselves immediately.
After a full ten seconds, Charlie finally spoke, his voice carrying the particular joy of a man who had just won everything he'd ever hoped for: "It's a girl. We're naming her Katie. Katie Pryde."
The sisters kept their smiles intact on the outside. Internally, they exchanged a glance—both carrying the same faint, mutual bewilderment. That name sounds like it belongs to someone else's sister entirely.
"Pryde was your grandmother's maiden name," Charlie explained. "Your grandfather wanted my third child to carry it..."
He kept going. Bella and Natasha both lost the thread somewhere around the third sentence.
Four eyes met again. Your grandmother? Your grandmother?
Bella had no idea what her grandmother's maiden name was. As far as she knew, the woman had passed away ages ago—she'd never given it much thought. Natasha was in roughly the same position.
Children carrying a grandmother's name wasn't unheard of in Western culture. Bella vaguely recalled that Nicolas Cage had changed his surname rather than using Coppola.
"That's wonderful."
"Great name. Little Katie—sounds lovely."
They piled on the compliments. It wasn't their kid; she could be called anything. Charlie and Samantha mostly just wanted people to share in their happiness, and they held the sisters captive for three full days before finally letting them go.
Natasha went back to her thrilling life as an agent. Bella boarded a flight back to Tokyo.
"Yeah, I'm too busy to make it. Sorry, I won't be attending. Take care."
Bella ended the call.
It was from the University of Tokyo student council.
Exactly what she'd expected, honestly.
Old man Yashida was dead. A funeral was being arranged. She only learned his full name after hanging up: Ichiro Yashida.
During his lifetime, Yashida had donated generously to the University of Tokyo—laboratories, teaching facilities, substantial contributions. The university intended to send a delegation to the Yashida family's memorial service at Zojoji Temple in Tokyo.
The party had to be small but meaningful, representative in composition.
Some administrator had apparently hit upon the idea of including a few "foreign students" in the delegation. Nothing said "prestige" like international attendees at a Japanese funeral.
The Stanford exchange students were not impressed. Seven or eight were asked—including Bella—and every single one declined.
Some old man died. Why should I care?
Bella especially had no interest. She'd practically watched the old man die firsthand. The way she figured it, Yashida had been dead for about a week—long enough to recover the body from Izu Oshima and transport it back to Tokyo. So why were they only now scheduling the funeral? Had the body been sitting around long enough to start turning?
Mildly curious thought. She let it go.
2:00 AM.
Bella was sound asleep when the second-floor master bedroom window inched open.
It widened slowly, then eased shut three seconds later.
Dead silence. The motion-sensor lights didn't react. The only sign of anything was a series of faint impressions in the carpet—shallow footprints tracking a deliberate path.
The invisible footsteps moved with purpose through the space, like someone returning to their own home. They went directly toward the bedroom. A pair of unseen hands reached out toward the sleeping Bella—