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The pieces slot themselves together slowly, year by year, memory by memory. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that it’s not quite normal, but it feels natural to remember being Shikako, jounin of Konoha, the Shikabane-hime. It’s what makes her wake up early and sing a song nobody in this world has heard of, stretching along with the lyrics and missing the woman who taught her the moves with a pang in her chest that aches for Konoha, for her family and friends, although they are unreachable now. She thinks, toddling around, that she’s back in her old world, the first one. It’s certainly similar enough, except it’s 1991 instead of 2011. Of course, there are the requisite differences in technology and science isn’t quite where it was before, but she feels comfortable here. Like she knows what’s happening. Plus, she can invest in the big companies of the future and earn a fortune!
That notion is quickly abolished when she’s walking outside and is attacked by a vampire.
A vampire! Really? Can the universe not grant her one moment of peace?
She doesn’t have chakra in this world, and after so long with it, the lack leaves an empty, gutted, feeling in her chest for years where there should be a reservoir of energy, ready to be used. But she’s Shikako Nara, and she doesn’t need chakra to be dangerous. Just ask Muku.
After dispatching the vampire (she had to cut off its head and it exploded into dust, which, by the way, is so efficient), she goes home and begins the most important job of anyone encountering anything new.
She researches.
Before long, she knows about slayers, vampires, demons, and other creepy crawlies that definitely don’t belong in her first world. It’s all very neatly organized by some random group called the Watcher’s Council, and Shikako would be kind of impressed if she wasn’t so annoyed by the numerous firewalls she had to blast through with some liberal and judicious use of her top-secret hacking skills.
By the end of it, she shrugs and thinks to herself that at least this world has their demon population under check, what with all the watchers floating around and various champions and hunters. Besides, she just wants a couple of years as a kid this time—it’s nice to not be responsible for the fate of the world.
Huh. she thinks. Maybe I should pick up a sport.
She picks softball, for no other reason than the fact that it’s a team sport and because the sheer satisfaction of hitting a ball really really fast with a big wooden stick is unmatched by any other feeling in the world.
Her first match is on May 20th, 2003. When she steps up to bat, she feels a nervousness that hasn’t shown up in years. Funny, she thinks. All those years of slaying monsters and demons, and she’s more nervous at this moment than she has been since she faced down Jashin, lifetimes ago. She takes a breath, calms her mind, and focuses on the pitcher.
Stop. Wait.
Something has changed.
Shikako can feel something, some unknown energy threading its way through the air and towards her. She breathes in, feels the thrum of power, and strength, and potential.
The energy finds her, seeps into her skin, and a slow, wicked smile stretches across her face as she feels the power she’s been missing for the last decade rush through her body, filling her with familiar strength and the comfort that comes with the knowledge that you can crush every obstacle in your path.
The softball is coming her way.
The world seems slower now—every moment frozen in crystal-clear clarity—and Shikako breathes and swings with her exhale, releasing a little bit of her new strength. When she finishes her swing, the field is silent for a moment before supporters scream in joy as the ball disappears far over the fence. She clears the bases to hearty applause, dearly missed strength coursing through her limbs.
When she gets home, feeling better than she has in years, she sits and mediates, feeling the energy within her. It’s not quite chakra, she realizes, but similar enough to amplify her strength and speed. But it’s not enough to recreate her seals. For now, she’ll have to make do with what she has.
When she checks the news that night, there are two big stories. The first is the sudden power granted to thousands of girls around the world, bestowing them with superhuman strength. The second is a sinkhole in Sunnydale. Shikako shrugs, figures she has no better leads, and decides she’s going to California. After all, there’s no way she’s going to just accept this power without figuring out where it came from.
It takes a few—okay, maybe a lot—of lies to convince her parents she’s going to a summer camp sanctioned by the school, but eventually, she finds herself exactly where she needs to be, standing at the edge of a massive crater in the earth. Sunnydale is gone. The damage looked bad on TV, yes, but it’s even worse in real life. A trip to the next town over and a public library tells her all she needs to know (thanks, Watcher’s Council!). Buffy Summers is the current slayer, and there’s a Hellmouth in Cleveland, and not in Sunnydale. Not anymore.
A quick search tells her about the Slayer Organization, where they’re stationed, and their leader, none other than Miss Buffy Summers. Well, at least she knows where she’s going next. She even has an address and everything!
The inside of the Slayer Organization building is roomy, designed for large groups of people. The doors are locked. Or at least, they were. It’s six in the morning when she walks in, and the building is quiet, She walks with silent, light, steps until she finds an office with a plaque on the door. It reads “XANDER HARRIS”.
She pushes the door open on silent hinges and begins reading through as many documents as she can.
When the door opens four hours later, she’s skimmed every loose sheet of paper she can find, and is so bored she’s been sharpening the weapons she found in the closet, which are of surprisingly high quality. A man with an eyepatch walks in, yelps, and immediately points a finger at her accusingly, screeching: “Who the hell are you, and how’d you get in here?!”
Shikako lifts an eyebrow and keeps on sharpening.
The man glares, steps outside the door, and yells, “Willow! I thought your creepy warding stuff was supposed to keep people out?”
With a slight pop, a redheaded woman appears from nowhere, takes the situation in with a glance, and disappears within a second. Somewhere down the hall, Shikako hears “Buffy! Wake up! We have a situation.”
An hour later, Shikako finds herself engaged in a conversation with an older British man named Giles about alternate dimensions, warding, and why you should ward against magical and non-magical forms of breaking and entering. She’s decided she likes the Scoobies, with their quirks and abilities and their friend-family hybrid that reawakens a longing in her for her team and her family. But the Lucky Sevens are far beyond her reach, somewhere she can never go.
----------------------------------------------------
“So you’re from an alternate dimension, huh?” says Buffy.
Shikako, momentarily shocked, opens her mouth to deny it. But Buffy smirks, points to her head, and says “Slaydar never lies. You look human, which rules out demon from this plane of existence, and you’re not a vampire, so, alternate dimension. Plus, uh, no offense but you don’t do a great job of pretending to be from around here, what with the knife-sharpening and whatnot. ”
Shikako is almost offended before she remembers the culture shock between Konoha and California and admits that maybe, just maybe, her perception of normal is screwed over.
Buffy points to her and grins. “But you’re also a Slayer! Which means you’re entitled to our training, housing, and help! So, whaddya say? Are you ready to be strong?”
Shikako catches a glimpse, just for a second, of what makes this woman the longest-lived slayer in existence. She is reminded of Tsunade for an instant: the blond hair, the hidden strength, the ability to make the tough choices, to lead.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad, to follow a woman who reminds her of Tsunade.
Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to follow a woman like Buffy Summers.
Ah, whatever. What’s she going to do with her time anyways?
—--------------------------------------------------
A year later, Shikako sits on the porch in front of Buffy’s house, at the annual Maypocalype party. Because there’s always an apocalypse every year, and it inevitably happens during May. The sky is glimmering with stars, the moon bright in the sky.
Willow joins her a second later, a glass in her hand. She sits next to her, and says, quietly, “I found way back for you, if you want it. Back to your old world. The dimension you came from."
Shikako glances at her, and says, a little wryly, “I know.” She was a ninja for longer than she was ever a Slayer. Sometimes people forget.
“Do you know what they used to call me? I used to be a little famous, you know. Most people didn’t know me as Shikako. They called me the Shikabane-hime.”
Willow frowns. “Sorry, my Japanese isn’t very good. Uh…dead princess?”
Shikako smiles sadly. ‘Close. Corpse Princess is a little more accurate. See, they called me that because I must’ve nearly died about a hundred times before I turned twenty. But the thing is…I didn’t. Die, that is. Not for a long, long, time.”
She tilts her head up, stars reflected in her eyes, then turns to Willow and says, “Do you know what life energy is?”
Willow nods,
“So you must know the theory, then, too. About gods. About energy so powerful and so dense that it manifests itself into beings, into a consciousness that can make choices and work miracles.”
Willow snorts. “I’ve met gods. And people made of energy. They’re not the same.”
Shikako laughs. “When did that come up? You know what—never mind, I don’t want to know. But the point is that the person you met was probably made from small-time mystical energy. I’m talking beings made from pure life energy. There’s a big difference. And I would bet that you’ve never met one of those.”
Willow glances over. “And you have?”
Shikako glances back up at the sky, and whispers, in a voice almost too quiet for Willow to hear, “We were stars.”
Oh.
Oh.
“You merged with a being made from life energy…and you survived?”
Shikako smirks wryly. “Almost didn’t. But someone pulled me back, made me remember who I was. I didn’t merge fully. But the thing is, the god gave me a little parting gift before I left.”
Faster than WIllow can react, Shikako grabs a knife from her boot and slices a shallow gash across her forearm, beads of red springing up immediately.
Before Willow can do so much as gasp, the wound closes, leaving only smooth, tanned skin.
Willow stares, disbelieving. Sure, Buffy’s got a pretty fast healing factor, but it’s not instant. Not like Shikako’s. Her mind is already racing, thinking through the implications. How far does it extend? Does severity affect the time to heal? If the healing is because of life energy, then how is Shikako harnessing it or using it? Can she sense it? What has life energy? What doesn’t? Before she can start spitting out questions, something occurs to her.
Life energy…lifespan. And Shikako has always seemed older than she looks.
Willow swallows and turns to Shikako, opening her mouth. She closes it. Opens again, collects herself, and asks, “Shikako…how old are you? Before you came here, I mean. In your old world.”
Shikako expression twists into something bitter, and wistful, and tired, and melancholy, and says quietly, “It doesn’t matter, does it? My family and friends died a while ago. Their descendants don’t need me. My village is doing fine on its own. That world doesn’t need me anymore, not really. Even if you could send me back…there’s nothing left for me. I had my time, I used it well, and now? Well now…It’s time for me to move on. I did everything I was supposed to. I’m free. Sunnydale was my fresh start. I’ve been a lot of things, but I’ve never been a Slayer.”
Shikako stands, walks back into the house, and leaves Willow sitting on the porch on a warm summer night, the moon full above her, and a list of questions with no answers.