by Nancy Holder
“But think of the hideous alternative to this trip.” His eyes flicked toward Buffy. “Maaaaath teeeeest!” he moaned in a ghostly voice.
“Mr. Harris!” a voice snapped from the front of the bus. “Do you mind?”
“Ah,” Xander sighed, an apologetic expression on his face. “The Professor has spoken. I must behave. Or die trying.” He spun and sat down in his seat.
Buffy looked at Willow and grinned. “Mr. Harris!” she mimicked.
Willow covered her mouth to hide her smile. Buffy was relieved. Will had been on a major blues trip all morning. Not that she could be blamed. The extreme number of muggings in this burg was another aspect of Sunnydale that never got much press.
“Did a little research for ya last night,” Willow said under her breath.
“The über-scholar,” Buffy replied.
They were riffing on Mr. Morse, the teacher who’d yelled at Xander. Buffy’s usual history teacher was out on medical leave. Nobody knew exactly what was wrong with her, but of course all the really good gossip ran toward the loony bin angle. For the past several weeks, they’d had to put up with Mr. Morse instead.
He was a little, bespectacled guy with a comb-over that did more to accent his increasing baldness than disguise it. Mr. Morse obviously thought that most of his students were morons, and didn’t do much to hide his opinion. He began each history class session by plopping a huge stack of books on his desk and announcing, “I did a little research for ya last night” as if it had been a major favor and weren’t they so totally fortunate to have him for a teacher.
Uh-huh.
On the other hand, Xander was right. The alternative to the museum caper was even nastier than said caper. Miss Hannigan might be nicer, but Buffy would take a Carnival Cruise with Mr. Morse if it meant missing a math test.
Okay, well, maybe not. But the museum wasn’t half bad in comparison.
The bus screeched to a stop, and Buffy followed Willow as they filed off. She glanced up and saw Giles, who gave her the patented Giles earnest nod as he helped Morse shepherd the wayward students toward the museum’s entrance. As Buffy and Willow passed, Giles put a protective hand on Willow’s shoulder. Buffy felt a sudden rush of affection for the proper British librarian. For her Watcher.
Buffy rarely gave him credit for all he’d done for her. Mostly, in fact, she gave him grief. But Giles had taught her a great deal, enough to keep her alive—most nights. Buffy smiled at him. She wouldn’t want anyone else in her corner when it came down to the last round.
She only wished it didn’t come down to the last round quite so often.
“Y’know, this place is actually pretty cool,” Buffy admitted, glancing around as they walked through the museum. She scanned the ancient artifacts and weaponry from cultures throughout history and across the world as they passed from one exhibit to the next. “I just don’t know how they manage to get all this stuff. I mean, the zoo has a few hyenas, and one saggy old grizzly, and that’s about it. But this place is almost as good as the one we used to go field-tripping to back in LA.”
“Yeah,” Xander agreed, “Sunnydale is just like LA. Without the celebrities, the movie studios, the chic eateries, the attitude, the incredibly gorgeous females …”
Willow and Buffy glared at him.
“… who are so completely unreal. Plastic. Horrible creatures, really,” he said quickly.
“Are you brain-dead, as if I have to ask?” Cordelia chimed in as she caught up with them. “LA rocks.”
“Ah, speak of the mannequin, and she appears,” Xander snapped.
Buffy shook her head. Ever since Xander and Cordy had started sneaking off to grope together in the shadows, she’d been expecting them to act all couply. But they were just as vicious with each other as ever. Maybe more so, at times. Ah, love.
“Actually,” Willow said softly, “we’re pretty fortunate to have such an excellent museum. This place is world-class. Sometimes we get exhibits on tour that don’t even stop in LA.”
“See, now that’s what I don’t get,” Buffy replied. “I’m asking, why? What’s so special about Sunnydale?”
“You’re asking us?” Cordelia said, staring at her in disbelief.
“Definitely the nightlife,” Xander volunteered.
Buffy just gave him the Jack Nicholson eyebrow, and he shot back with puppy-dog eyes and an I-can’t-help-it shrug.
“Which nightlife are you talking about?” Willow asked, and glanced knowingly at Cordelia.
“Oh, please!” Cordy sneered. “Can’t you people just cold shower for thirty seconds?”
“Yeah,” Xander said, making a show of siding with Cordelia. “You people are so smut-oriented. I was referring to the ever-popular, much-anticipated Curse of the Rat-People Night. Wasn’t that what you were referring to, Cor? The specialness of this very special little town?”
Cordelia seethed in silence.
“Seriously, Willow,” Xander continued, “why does Sunnydale rate?”
“The best and most common of reasons,” Willow replied. “Money. The museum’s endowment is huge. Apparently, a lot of rich people come from Sunnydale, and even the ones who leave are generous enough.”
“And no doubt sold their souls for those generous riches,” Xander said. “Like those frat boys who almost fed Buffy and Cordelia to their worm-monster god-guy last year.”
He smiled brightly at Buffy. “Just think, there are probably several more secret organizations you’ll have to bust up to save all the town’s virgins—and other people—from certain death.”
“Let’s hope not.” Buffy sighed, then noticed that Cordelia’s cheeks were turning pink.
“And we move on,” Xander suggested.
They passed into the visiting exhibition hall, which was a labyrinth of rooms filled with art and artifacts from ancient Japan. Almost immediately, Buffy became fascinated, despite her earlier grumbling. The culture of ancient Japan was so different from Western culture of the period, and even more so from the Western world of modern times.
In the second room, they came upon Giles examining what appeared to be a tiny plastic garden.
“Ah, there you all are,” he said, as though he’d been desperately searching for them. “Isn’t this a marvelous exhibit?”
“Maybe not the word I would have picked, but it’s pretty cool, yeah,” Buffy admitted, joining him in craning over a miniature curved bridge and tiny evergreen trees. What is it?”
“Hmm?” Giles hmmed, then glanced back down at the tiny garden. “Oh, right. Quite impressive, actually. It seems that Sunnydale was, at one time or another, the sister city of Kobe, Japan.”
“Wait, isn’t that where they had that big earthquake?” Xander asked.
“Indeed.”
“Wow, that’s a weird coincidence,” Willow said. “I mean, with us having our earthquake and all.”
“My thinking precisely. That parallel is what has captivated me,” Giles explained, pushing up his glasses in his Giles-is-thinking way. “You see, I’m not entirely certain it was a coincidence.”
“I don’t get it. And I really don’t get what this has to do with your big Chia Pet there,” Buffy said, already glancing around at other exhibits in the room.
“This is a friendship garden,” Giles said impatiently. “The people of Kobe planted and groomed a real Japanese garden here in Sunnydale, recreating one just like it in their city. Apparently, after the earthquake in Sunnydale, the garden was abandoned and all of its vegetation simply withered and died. Quite unnaturally, in fact. It seems that local authorities went so far as to bring in botanical specialists, but no one could explain it.”
“So this happened right after the Hellmouth opened under Sunnydale,” Xander said. “And your thinking is what, vegetarian vampires?”
“Well, it’s merely conjecture, of course …”
“Giles, your conjecturing is a little like the oracle at Delphi. Spit it out,” Buffy said.
They all stared at her.
“What?” Buffy asked. “Come on, Willow is my history tutor! I do know some things.”
From across the room, a whiny voice said, “I heard that, Summers. Let’s hope you know enough to pass this semester.”
Buffy gave Mr. Morse a purposely fake smile and batted her eyelashes at him, hoping he got the sarcasm in her reaction and suddenly terrified that he’d miss it. Pip-squeak would probably think she was flirting with him.
She sighed and glanced at Giles. “You were saying?”
“Well, it does strike me as odd that the garden died in the wake of the earthquake, and that Sunnydale’s sister city had an earthquake not long afterward.”
“Wait, you think that the Hellmouth somehow caused an earthquake halfway around the world by, I don’t know, infecting another city through some friendship garden?” Xander asked incredulously.
“Well,” Giles said stodgily, “when you put it that way, it does sound a bit dodgy, but it does still seem an odd confluence of events, wouldn’t you say?”
“Is this going to lead up to me having to kill something?” Buffy asked.
“No,” Giles replied with an odd look. “I can’t say as much.” He murmured, “For certain.”
Buffy grinned happily. “Then, oh yeah, Giles. Definitely super-odd, the um, conflue-thing. Can we see what else is here now? Mr. Morse threatened to test us on this field trip, and I can’t afford to miss a thing.”
“By all means, do,” Giles said, obviously a little disappointed that his theory hadn’t interested them more. But he got over it quickly and was soon lost among the artifacts once more.
They’d lost Cordelia early on, but soon Buffy, Willow, and Xander also drifted apart, each gravitating toward different displays, different rooms in the maze of the exhibit. From time to time they’d cross paths and share information.
Xander quickly became interested in displays about samurai and the art depicting their legends. There were reproductions of traditional samurai garb and information about the privileged life they led.
“Man, these guys had it good,” Xander said when they met up.
“Yeah, sweet life,” Buffy replied. “Someone gave ’em trouble, they could just hack them to ribbons and nobody would ask a single question. I’m Kermit with envy.”
Xander looked at her. “Buff, they were slaying humans, y’know. It wasn’t the same thing.”
She shook her head. “That’s even more unfair. I’m always worried about getting in trouble, and I’m not even killing anyone who’s still alive.”
Cordelia appeared suddenly, spotted them, and came buzzing across the room.
“Okay,” she said, “this is so completely disgusting. Did you know that married women in ancient Japan plucked their eyebrows, and I mean, all of them?”
Buffy and Xander stared at her.
“But wait,” Cordelia said importantly. “There’s more.”
“Promise?” Xander asked.
Cordelia gave him a backhand to the shoulder and directed her attention at Buffy. “Okay, Summers, I know you’re not exactly House of Style, but listen to this: They painted their faces white, and their teeth black!”
Buffy winced. “That really is disgusting.”
Cordelia sniffed at Xander triumphantly.
“Y’know,” he said, “I can see it now, Cordy. You on the runways of Paris, bringing back the fashions of ancient Japan. A whole new trend, and a devastating blow to toothpaste manufacturers everywhere.”
She narrowed her eyes and drawled, “Why do I even bother with you?” As usual, Cordy left in a huff.
“What about you, Miss Summers?” Xander asked. “What’s caught your particularly fanciful fancy?”
Buffy grinned shyly. “What do you think, Xander?”
Xander stroked his chin, pretending to consider. “The weapons, but of course.”
“But of course,” she replied.
Willow had kind of hoped Oz would be on the field trip, but after she’d wandered around for a while, she gave up hope of seeing him. She didn’t really want to talk about what had happened to her, but that was one of the coolest things about Oz. He always seemed to know when to just be quiet.
Her friends had done their best to cheer her up, and it had worked a little. But not much more than a little. Willow was still at a loss to understand what exactly had happened to her, and why. But she understood how it had happened all too well. She only wished the others could understand too.
Xander had been her best friend almost her whole life, and he might be sympathetic, but he’d never really get it. After all, he was a guy. Sure, he wasn’t Schwarzenegger, but he wasn’t scrawny, either. He just wasn’t as vulnerable; guys weren’t.
And then there was Buffy—who could kick Xander’s ass and not even be able to call it exercise. How could she ever possibly understand what it felt like to feel powerless?
“Hey, Will.”
Willow turned and saw Buffy standing next to her. She hadn’t even noticed, and it occurred to her again how cool it was to be the Slayer. The bad guys wouldn’t even know Buffy was coming until she took them down.
“Hey,” Willow said, and sighed.
“See anything interesting?” Buffy asked, too cheery.
“Well,” Willow said, and realized that she had, indeed, seen something interesting. Something that would take her mind off what a weakling she was for an entire minute.
“Actually, yeah,” she replied. “I really liked the display on Kabuki theater and Noh plays.”
“Color me purple, but I didn’t even notice them,” Buffy admitted. “And you know they’ll be on any test, them being so historical and all. Where are they?”
“Let me show you,” Willow said.
They walked into the next room together, and Willow told her what she’d learned about the ancient forms of entertainment, and pointed out the masks that she thought were especially cool or nasty-looking.
“What about you?” Willow asked. “Did you see anything cool?”
Buffy’s eyes brightened, and she dragged Willow back through the labyrinth and into a huge room filled with ancient Japanese weaponry.
“Yeah,” Willow said, nodding. “I figured you’d like it in here.”
“Some of these weapons aren’t like anything I’ve ever seen,” Buffy admitted. “And the way the Japanese made their swords, folding the metal over and over, hundreds of times. The craftsmanship was incredible.”
Willow’s eyes were drawn to one sword in particular. Hung on the wall, it was a huge, crudely fashioned thing that looked like it would be more use beating someone to death than running them through. It didn’t have the elegance of the traditional Japanese warrior’s set of gently curving long and short swords.
“What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the huge blade.
“Isn’t that amazing?” Buffy asked. “Nothing like a katana or wakizashi.”
Willow smiled slightly and thought about how easy it was for Buffy to learn when she was interested in the subject. She stepped over to the huge sword and began to read aloud from the plaque affixed to the wall beneath it.
“‘This form of sword, called a ken, is actually of Chinese origin, and was used in Japan in the eighth century, before the more familiar daisho, or sword pair, of the ancient Japanese warrior was developed. This example, recently discovered in the Chugoku mountain range, has proved to date back even further, and is one of a kind,’” Willow read, only half aloud. “Wow,” she added.
“Read the rest,” Buffy urged. “You’ll love all the mythology stuff.”
Willow did, but silently this time.
“‘Upon the sword’s discovery, locals began to claim it to be the shin-ken, or real sword, of the god Sanno, a Japanese mythological figure also known as the King of the Mountain, and usually considered to have made his home on Mount Hiei, near Kyoto and Kobe, Japan.
“‘According to this legend, which some of the older farmers in the region believe to this day, the Mountain King was responsible
for protecting Japan from invasion by foreign supernatural forces, an obvious reference to the tense relations between Japan and China at that time. This theory is supported by the myth surrounding Sanno’s greatest battle, in which he apparently vanquished a Chinese vampire named Chirayoju, who had wanted to eat the Emperor of Japan, and thus destroy the nation. According to legend, neither Sanno nor Chirayoju survived the battle.’”
Willow was stunned. “So, wait, you think this Sanno guy was the Slayer?” she asked.
Buffy blinked. “No. Big male-type person with a huge sword who lived on top of a mountain and let the spookables come to him? It’s only a legend, Will. I just thought it was kind of cool.”
“Yeah,” Willow agreed. She looked at the sword again. “It’s different from other vampire legends we’ve heard about. Or, y’know, met.”
But Willow was thinking that it was also interesting because of Sanno. Not the Slayer. Just a big guy with a big sword. Taking care of business. For a moment, she thought about what she could do if she worked out a little. Worked out, and maybe had a big sword, too.
“Y’know,” she said idly, not really paying attention to what she was saying, “with all the tutoring I’ve helped you out with, I was thinking maybe you could tutor me a little.”
“Huh?” Buffy said, confused. “What subject could I possibly tutor you in, Willow? You’re our Brainy Smurf.”
Willow reached out with her uninjured hand toward the sword, touched the cool surface of the metal. Cool, yes, but with some weird heat to it as well. Like it was burning inside.
“Self-defense,” she whispered.
Buffy sort of smiled and frowned at the same time.
“You do pretty well, Will,” she said.
Willow held up her injured hand, wrapped in its small cast. Her smile was pained.
“No,” she replied. “I don’t. I’ve been lucky up to now. I don’t want to be a liability, Buffy. I don’t want you to have to protect me all the time.”
Buffy touched the cast on Willow’s hand. “Will,” she said, “it’s not your fault those guys jumped you. And, trust me, there have been plenty of times when I would’ve been toast for sure if it hadn’t been for you. So I’m better with pointy objects. So what?”
