Bella had been meaning to check in with 006 about the archaeological dig—how far along it was, whether they'd located the wreck of the Charlotte. But she'd been running on empty lately, and before anything else, she needed two days of actual rest.
She spent the entire break in transit, crisscrossing the globe. In the days just before classes resumed, she flew to Japan to collect Sadako and bring her back to the States.
After six months of immersive learning, Sadako had gradually adjusted to modern life.
She'd been dead for over thirty years. Whatever identification she'd once had was long gone. Bella had handled all the paperwork, and the name on the documents was still Sadako Yamamura.
Their first stop was Forks, Washington—Bella's old hometown. Using Sadako's abilities, they healed Jacob's father, Chief Billy Black, restoring the use of his legs.
Billy had been the one who first opened that door for Bella. She'd carried that debt for years, and now that she finally had the means to repay it, she did so without hesitation.
From Forks, they flew to New York.
Bella's connections in Hollywood were strong enough to land Sadako a mid-tier acting career without much difficulty. But to help stabilize her better side—and keep that old darkness from resurfacing—Bella felt she needed an additional layer of protection. An insurance policy.
She referred Sadako to Professor Charles Xavier.
Professor X had a reputation for treating all mutants equally, but there were always gradations. A mutant with healing abilities captured his attention immediately.
Beast, Storm, Cyclops, and Jean Grey were all present—the X-Men's core lineup had assembled to meet this particular new arrival.
"Professor, this is Sadako."
"Sadako, this is Professor Charles Xavier—exactly as I described. One of the warmest people I know."
The bald professor's charisma was undeniable. He smiled with genuine warmth. "Healing. I'll be honest—in all my years, aside from Jean, I've never met a mutant with true healing abilities."
He was being diplomatic. In reality, Sadako was the only one.
Jean's healing came from the Phoenix Force—which was a bit like using a nuclear warhead to cure a headache. Too much energy, too little precision; one lapse in control and the biological energy would overflow catastrophically. Theoretically, Jean could heal someone. In practice, she'd never dared try—not once—because the result would almost certainly be fatal.
Professor X gave Sadako a tour of his Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters.
"Don't be nervous, child. No one here means you any harm. If you'd like, consider this a home."
Perhaps the Professor filled a void in Sadako's heart that had always been shaped like a father. Within a few exchanges, the warmth between them was unmistakable.
Sadako healed Professor Xavier's damaged spine. The old man gripped the sides of his wheelchair and took two careful steps. His expression stayed composed—but the X-Men who knew him best could see through it. He was genuinely moved.
Who would choose a wheelchair if they could walk?
"Thank you, Ms. Swan. Thank you, Ms. Sadako." There was real sincerity in his voice. "This may be the finest gift I've received all year."
He gave his full blessing to Sadako's Hollywood plans.
And he was right to. Sadako not joining the X-Men was the correct call. The moment her healing ability became public knowledge, even the X-Men couldn't protect her—not without escalating to full-scale open warfare with human military forces. Better to keep a low profile.
Once word got out, government officials, billionaires, and armed factions from every corner of the globe would mobilize every resource they had to get their hands on her. The resulting conflict between mutants and humans would be catastrophic.
To protect the secret, Professor Xavier would have to keep using his wheelchair in public.
"Professor?" Cyclops started to speak—he thought the Professor was being overly deferential to the opinions of high-level officials—but a glance from the Professor silenced him.
"Sadako—while you're pursuing your career in Hollywood, don't neglect your studies. I have a few friends out there. I'll ask them to look after you." A direct offer. No qualifications.
These days, no one could afford to dismiss Hollywood's influence. Jewish communities had long understood how to use it as a protective layer—a way of shaping public sympathy. The Pentagon had a dedicated office for managing its relationship with the studios, all to ensure the military's image stayed heroic on screen. Professor Xavier, for his part, had quietly acquired stakes in several mid-sized production companies. His goal wasn't to glorify mutants—just to make sure no one dared actively smear them.
With the Professor's backing, Sadako's network had become considerably more formidable.
In less than three days, every part of the process was complete: union membership, auditions, contracts—all of it. Sadako walked directly into a production with a total budget exceeding $80 million, cast in a major supporting role.
For the role, she took a stage name: Camila.
Her screen time wasn't substantial—the lead actress herself was mostly decorative, and the supporting role even more so. But it was a named role. The kind that appeared on a movie poster with her name attached.
It went so smoothly that her Hollywood liaison, Bob Harris—who'd been navigating the industry for twenty years—found himself genuinely stunned. He'd never seen anyone work connections like this.
The producers and director each sat down with Sadako on set for a ten-minute conversation; the atmosphere was relaxed and warm. Everyone on the crew understood immediately that the new supporting actress had been hired through connections. There wasn't much to say about it—you just swallowed it and moved on.
Bob Harris ran interference on the more open hostility. Sadako, for her part, showed no trace of arrogance. She bowed to everyone she met and carried herself with impeccable manners.
Even with all that effort, some resentment was unavoidable. She'd come in through the back door and bumped someone else down a rung. People might hold their tongues, but you couldn't stop them from thinking it.
"That bitch."
Sadako's sudden appearance had knocked the original second female lead, Diane, down to third billing. The jealousy that ignited in her chest burned cold and bright.
Diane was beautiful—golden hair, striking features, a figure that turned heads. She'd come up from Seattle to make something of herself in Hollywood, alone and grinding every step of the way. She'd finally clawed her way to a second female lead role. And now it had been stripped away, effortlessly and completely. She was furious.
But Diane was calculating. She faked a friendship with Sadako, all while quietly trying to figure out the scope of her backing.
She took Sadako on drives through Beverly Hills. Showed her the palm trees lining Sunset Boulevard. Brought her up to Mulholland Drive to take in the view of West Los Angeles glittering below.
And somewhere in all that time spent together, she realized something she hadn't planned on: she was falling for this guileless, gentle Japanese woman.
Sadako's worldview was frozen somewhere in the 1960s—conservative to a fault. She hadn't read anything into their friendship at all, assumed it was simply that: two friends who enjoyed each other's company.
Diane's feelings ran deep, and they brought her nothing but pain. The jealousy didn't fade with love—it sharpened. Every time she watched the crew cluster around Sadako, showering her with compliments while Diane stood there invisible, it felt like something inside her was being torn in half.