All at once, Stiles backed off. The rod came away from Kira's neck, twirling twice before he let the end rest on the floor at his side. He offered her a hand in the next second, but before either could move, Scott was in the ring.
He stood between them, looking from one to the other in anticipation of the next move, who's wrist he'd have to stay, but it was over. The tension was gone.
Kira only looked at him for a second before focusing on Stiles who standing behind him. "You're a good actor," She was furious, speaking through her teeth.
Stiles broke eye contact by sliding back directly behind Scott, nervous, confused, "I'm just—yeah, gunna let you take care of that." He patted Scott on the shoulder, "Yeah."
Kira bared her teeth, moving to stand. "Only a coward would deny his opponent death after defeat."
"Kira," Scott put a hand on her shoulder, trying to get her to look him in the eyes, "Kira, look at me."
She refused, gaze chasing Stiles around Scott's back, "You're breaking the rules of the game. Why?"
Behind Scott, where he couldn't be seen by anyone other than Kira, he barely smirked. It was a knowing smirk, a nonverbal promise. Of what, Kira—or rather, the Kitsune—didn't know.
Confident that Kira wasn't about to lunge at him given how fixated she was on Stiles and how physically exhausted she appeared to be from the match, Scott dug through his pocket and tried to pull out his phone. He'd been trying to learn bits and pieces of Japanese from Kira's parents to better handle and understand situations like this, but he was far from fluent.
Thankfully, google translate had him covered. He kept on hand on Kira's shoulder, keeping her grounded, while his other worked to open the app.
If he could even catch a bit of what she was saying, maybe it would help them help her.
"Why!?" She snarled, still speaking to Stiles, "Coward!"
Scott's phone spat it back out at him in English, and then Kira's eyes began to fade back to their beautiful, deep black. She blinked furiously, trying to place herself and the time, and then turned away with a shake of her head. "It happened again, didn't it?" She found Scott's eyes, their empathetic turn answer enough.
"It's okay. You can't expect to have it under control right away—your mom said it'd take weeks, or months."
"Or years," Kira tacked on, dejected.
Set on loop, Scott's phone spit out the translation again. "What's that?" Kira asked, glancing towards the phone in his hand.
Stiles, now confident enough to step out of Scott's shadow, decided to explain. "That's what you were saying. That and some other stuff, I think."
"Yeah, I didn't get it all." Scott turned the audio off, stuffing it back into his pocket.
"Who was I talking to?" She looked between the two of them, "What happened?"
"You and Stiles—" Scott shook his head, not sure he could even properly recount what he'd seen, "You went at it. And—Stiles, how did you do that?"
Stiles shrugged, absolutely baffled, "I dunno. Reflexes, maybe? I do get a lot of practice fighting for my life. Maybe I should pick up fencing." He tossed the flayed foam sword up, spinning what was left. It fell to the floor with an awkward clank, and he exhaled. "Orrrr not."
"No, dude, I felt something in the air while you and Kira were fighting. Like when we went to New Mexico. You remember that? When we saw that storm?"
"Oh, yeah. Chills." Stiles shivered, "It felt like we were going to get struck by lightning."
"Yes! Yeah, exactly." He pointed at Stiles; he was right on the money, "It felt like I could hear everything, like time was all… foggy."
"You ever think of picking up poetry?" Stiles asked, "You've got some real existential metaphors going on."
"Look, I'm just saying it was weird." Scott insisted, "What do we say about weird in Beacon Hills?"
There was a moment of silence, punctuated by Scott looking between the two of them for an answer. "…Do we have a saying for that?" Kira asked,
Stiles pursed his lips, shaking his head after a moment of deliberation.
"We say… it's weird," Scott finished. "When something's weird in Beacon Hills, it's weird."
"So, weird with emphasis." Stiles summarized.
"Weird with emphasis," Scott echoed back, like it was a good way to set the saying up.
"It could've been the fox," Kira pitched, "It's a lightning spirit."
"No, it was different. I know what that feels like. You're like static. This was like fog." Scott looked around the gym as he said it, straining his ears for anything amiss; an extra heartbeat, a wayward breath, but all he picked up on were the two standing beside him and his own. Kira's was pumping hard, and Stiles's was dead even.
His nose went to work next out of habit, looking for anything his eyes and ears missed, and he could still tell there was something off. It was infuriatingly impossible to place.
The gym door opening shattered his concentration, and heels against wood was all it took to place the newcomer.
Lydia, who didn't dare walk any farther into the gym evidenced by the wrinkle in her nose, stood in the doorway with her hand on her hip. She'd recovered beautifully, but it was hidden underneath the mask of makeup she wore to fool other students into thinking she'd never been broken.
"God, it smells gross in here. Are you almost done?"
"Just finished," Scott turned to exit the ring, "What's going on?"
He said it like he was expecting terrible news, a problem he'd have to rise to defeat.
"Uh, Bio review. Six P.M. with Dr. Sardona, remember?" She cocked a brow, and Scott looked at her blankly. "For the test on Monday?"
Scott sprang into action all at once, "Oh, crap! Crap," He rushed to put his things in his bag, taking off all the extra padding with practiced efficiency, "What time is it?"
"Five fifty-two." She kept the door open with her heel, "I saved you a seat."
"Why are you going to an AP Bio review?" Stiles asked, leaning over the ring's ropes, "Didn't you finish that freshman year?"
"I'm tutoring," She smirked, "And Dr. Sardona told me that she's holding me specifically accountable if Scott doesn't walk out of there with a five."
Scott shouldered his bag, sweaty and apologetic, "Sorry, Kira. Are you sure you're okay? I can—"
"No, no, go. You've got this." She gave him a thumbs up and a nod, "We'll close up here."
"Thank you so sososo much," He doubled back to give her a kiss and then hurried to meet Lydia.
"What, nothing for me?" Stiles asked, "Just when you think you're past 'no homo' with a guy, am I right?"
Kira rolled her eyes with a smile, "Come on, Stiles. Let's get all this gym gear put away."
Before they got working, Stiles hopped into Coach's office to put some music on. It made things move faster, and the two of them made a game into getting the runaway sports gear into bins on beat. Before long, Kira was back to smiling.
It took them nearly an hour to move everything back into place; it was the price they had to pay for using the gym after hours. All the bleachers had to be pushed in, the floor had to be swept, and the two raced each other to the end of every task. When everything was in place, the two of them took one last breather with their backs against the floor of the boxing ring.
"I almost," Stiles started, having to pause every few beats to breathe, "Got you, on the sweeping."
"I lapped you twice," She turned her head towards him, "No contest."
Stiles let out a breathy laugh, and the two stayed there until the cool of the mat sunk deep enough into their backs.
"Y'know," Stiles turned to look at Kira this time, and Kira turned to look at him, "I know what you're going through with that… other, uh, thing—the other part of you—I know it's tough. And I'm not saying it to be fake sympathetic or anything. I mean I know."
Kira wasn't used to talking to Stiles seriously one-on-one. Usually, when things were going well, she got Stiles: Master of Dry Humor. When they were in crisis, she knew Stiles: the Mastermind. So this? It was new.
She shook her head, looking back at the ceiling, "Scott says werewolves have to learn control, and he says he can help me do that, but I'm not a werewolf."
"You're a kitsune," Stiles looked at the ceiling, too. "Which is arguably more badass."
"It doesn't feel like it. I feel like a screw-up. I make things explode and ruin power-grids, and sometimes I'm not even myself. It's like me and this…"
"Other thing, fighting to see who gets to walk around."
She sat up on her elbows, looking at him suspiciously. "Yeah."
He raised his palms, "What can I say? I've been there."
All at once, Kira realized what he was talking about—what he'd been talking about. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry—god, it feels like that was forever ago."
"Funny, feels like yesterday to me." He sat up fully, and all at once Kira felt like she was being looked at more seriously. "Can I tell you something?"
Kira sat up fully, too, feeling it appropriate for the turn the conversation had taken. "… What do you mean, 'tell me something'. You mean like you tell me something and I don't tell Scott?"
"I mean like tell you something and you don't tell anyone," He half-laughed, "But yeah, Scott too."
Kira's brow furrowed, and she focused on her hands resting in her lap for a moment. "I'm not going to lie to him."
"I didn't ask you to lie to him," Stiles clarified, "I'm just asking you not to say anything. If you tell him, things could get—yeah, bad." His leg started shaking the way it did when he got nervous, his fingers twining together like they were trying to weave a safety net. "It's not about him or anything. It's about you."
"….Okay," Now Kira was nervous, but for an entirely different reason. Usually, conversations that started out like that only ever ended one way and she didn't know if she could deal with being the reason Scott and Stiles fought—
Stiles took one more moment to consider taking it all back, biting his tongue, and Kira could feel it in the air.
"I can help you learn control."
"…You did. Today." Kira said it like it was obvious, confused, "That's why we came here."
"No—no. We came here so Scott could treat you like one of his first-moon Betas." He stood up, taking the few steps to pick up Kira's blunt and discarded practice sword, "Which, no news to anyone, you're not."
Kira watched him, still not following.
"You're a fox. Your mom tells you to keep all that power bottled up, like a lightning Molotov; obviously, bad, right? Scott thinks you can use it if you just learn self-control, which you can't because you don't think the fox is you."
He let the sword spin once, so fast Kira could hear it. He let it go and caught it by the blade, offering her the hilt inches from her nose.
"It's a tricky situation."
Kira's heart was beating against her rib cage, and she stood slowly. The way he was carrying himself radiated confidence not present nearly two minutes ago. The way he worked that sword—her sword—so deftly, the feeling in the air-
"So," He flipped the sword so he had the handle again, understanding she wasn't going to take it, "Let me give you a third option—you ready to write this down?"
"Nogitsune," She whispered, almost too quiet to hear her own voice.
"Y'know," He tapped his fingers along the edge of the dull blade, "No one's even said that word in front of me since it- It's like they think if they don't talk about it, it didn't happen. Like Allison didn't happen, like Derek didn't happen, like Jackson and everyone and everything else we want to forget didn't happen. But it did. Just like it's happening to you. And just like then, just like with me, all of us are going to do our damdest to save your rabid kitsune ass. But guess what?" He stepped closer to her, "You know what happens if they can't?"
Kira's shaking now, and she only lets herself look at the sword in Stiles's hand for a split second. He catches it and steps away, unwilling to take the risk.
"They'll act like you never happened. Sure, you might get—you might get a set of initials on some dusty bookcase in some high school no one will remember, but they'll never talk about you again."
He's saying it like it hurts, like he's on the brink of losing something.
"It's—it's terrifying, right?" He's back to empathetic, "As soon as you die—as soon as you're a failure—you're gone. You're gone forever. Or—this's worse, so much worse, you screw up. You screw up and get people hurt, you get people killed, and they'll forget about that, too, and you've got to live with it while they let it go."
Kira didn't know what to do. She saw Stiles, she heard Stiles, but she felt—
"I don't want that for you. I don't want that for anyone." He offers her the sword again, the blade turned down this time, "Let me help you."
Kira put her hand on the hilt above his, staying careful, deliberate. She could feel the energy in the sword; a frequency, a vibration, a hum.
"I'm me," Stiles insisted, "I promise."
Kira tried to pull the sword from Stiles's grasp, but he didn't let go.
"You don't believe me."
