Noes: This is supposed to be multi-chaptered, but since it's so short I'll just put it all in the one
Summary: It's Sunday. Stiles breathes, starts the the Jeep.
"I could go with you," Malia says. "Nah." Stiles waves her off. "I might get stabbed if I bring anyone else." Notes: Wow, it seems almost like it's been longer than a week since Mrs. Yukimura set Sunday as the day they'd Talk about It.
Man, I wonder why. Here it is regardless, sorry for the wait.
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
Chapter 1: Sunday morning.
Summary: Things unexpected happen - and pencils are involved.
Notes: I'm baaccckkk (off holidayyy)! Have this as a little present and a 'sorry it's been so long so here's the technically first multi-chaptered work in this series'-apology.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
It's Sunday.
Stiles breathes, starts the Jeep. "I could go with you," Malia says.
Stiles thinks, for a moment. Then:
"Nah." Stiles waves her off. "I might get stabbed if I bring anyone else."
Malia looks flatly at him, as if to say 'and you wonder why I'm offering to come,' so Stiles shrugs. "Most likely I'll just be sitting on a couch the whole time, so It's bound to be wholly uninteresting, Mal."
She sighed. "Fine," the coyote relented. "But if you do happen to get stabbed, I know who to blame."
Stiles grins, and she smiles - gets out the car. "Be careful," Malia says - serious. Stiles nods... a little uncomfortable, sure - it's only been a day or so since this whole thing became common knowledge, and all that that entails.
(the 'Running around undetectable in the preserve and evil trees with surprise gifts' thing that happened, along with 'Malia maybe sort of almost severely damaging Scotty' and Stiles 'being less than perfectly himself' things. They made the last couple days a nightmare to deal with.)
Stiles watches Malia walk off in the direction of what Stiles thinks to be Lydia's home, for a bit. Once she rounds the corner, he puts the car into gear, and drives.
The Yukimura house is the same as it was a week ago - not that Stiles expected any different, honestly, but there you have it.
Stiles pulled up to the curb, shut off the Jeep's engine. He spied the curtains shift, and heard shuffling (he shouldn't have) as someone moved towards the door.
Heartbeat(s) pounding in his ears (three; his, hers - who's the other? Surely not her husband; Noshiko doesn't seem like she'd want her husband anywhere near while this goes down), Stiles exits the car, locks it, and pockets his keys.
By the time he's gotten to the door, Noshiko had arrived at it. He didn't even need to knock before it was opened.
"Stiles," she greeted him. He nodded in return, and the kitsune stood aside as he entered.
Of fucking course. Stiles had half a mind to just turn around and leave, but the sound of the door locking shut clicked loud in the silent hall.
"Stiles," Deaton greeted, and Stiles huffed.
"I fear that there may still be a tie between you and the nogitsune - all I'm here to do today is make sure any link is fully severed." Deaton explained. "Anything else can be discussed another time, but this takes priority."
Stiles followed the two adults into the living room, and sat on the couch again.
"You appear to be handling things better than when you were last here," Noshiko commented. "I'd commend you for it if I didn't know what happened the other day."
Stiles scowled. "Right," he muttered. "that."
"Yes," Deaton agreed. "'That' has been moved to what Noshiko wishes to talk with you about today rather than what was planned... short notice tends to ruin things like plans." He mused. "Regardless... Noshiko, if you would?"
The woman nodded, and walked over to the cabinet.
Stiles stilled. "Are you sure that's such a good idea?" He asked, dubiously - looking at Deaton askance for a moment before focusing fully on what Mrs. Yukimura was doing.
"I need to see the reaction for myself in order to determine the cause." Deaton nodded to the cabinet. "And in order for that to happen, we need to take the box out of it's prison."
Stiles sighed. This was going to go so well.
Just as last time, Stiles felt a pull towards the cabinet - weaker, true, but still there - and for some godawful reason almost longed to move over there and unlock the prison, brick by brick...
Stiles hadn't noticed in his concentration that he was tapping That rhythm out on his thigh again (which he'd managed to avoid consciously doing once his friends had started to notice), nor did he realise that he had leaned forwards, ever so slightly (as if he were to stand), either.
However, he did no more than that. The couch wasn't being pressed down, he hadn't stood, and there were no cups which he could dent.
So it was going better than the last visit. Marginally.
The pull shifted from the cabinet, and grew stronger. Stiles' head shot up, and he stared at the box, fingers stilling as he sat up straighter.
"What're you going to do with that?" Stiles asks.
"See what you do with it." Deaton replies. "He's still weakened; when you split, as you are likely aware, you took a few things that he requires."
"I didn't take anything." Stiles snaps back. "The Nogitsune's an ass who wanted to mess with us by leaving me with some shit I don't want or need."
Deaton purses his lips and says, "Are you sure?" But leaves it at that. Stiles is glad. (Read; relieved.)
He walks over, and Stiles resists the urge to stand - instead, he leans back into the couch.
"Good." Deaton inclines his head. "You're able to resist what the Nogitsune wants. What do you want to do?"
kill it. Stiles thinks - but that's not exactly possible. destroy it, but again - not possible. Stop it from ever being able to do anything like what it did ever again...
Now that, for someone else, someone with actually helpful powers, might just be plausible.
Deaton nods - what Stiles was thinking must have shown on his face, or maybe the druid had some hocus-pocus that let him know regardless (Stiles doesn't care) - and places the box on the coffee table in front of Stiles.
The two adults - Druid and ex-Kitsune - sit across from him. Stiles stares down at the box, and thinks.
"I -" He starts. Stiles frowns, inclines his head and stares at the box. "He doesn't want me to open it." Stiles realises.
Well. Stiles doesn't want to do whatever it wants him to do...
So he does.
The adults tense, but when Stiles has opened it nothing happens. They sit there, and after a minute or so relax slightly.
Stiles looks up to them.
"It's not moving." He says, and Noshiko leans forwards. He's right, she sees - the fly is lying at the bottom of the box, and -
She leans back, quick - Stiles stabs the Nogitsune-fly with a pencil and blinks.
"Um." He says. "Okay."
Deaton frowns, purses his lips.
"I think..." He says, slowly, looking up at the both of them. "It wants to die."
Chapter 2: A Concession.
Summary:
Stiles has never exactly considered himself a nice person - not really, not on surface level - and has most certainly never thought himself on the same ranking of goodness that Scott just oozes out of his fucking pores without even trying.
Stiles has never exactly considered himself a nice person - not really, not on surface level - and has most certainly never thought himself on the same ranking of goodness that Scott just oozes out of his fucking pores without even trying.
And therefore, when his first instinct (after putting the lid back on the box because if he doesn't he might just stare and stare and stare - and lose track of time-) is to leave the pencil in the fly, that's exactly what he does.
Stiles puts the lid on the box and closes it, because (he can at least admit this) he doesn't want to get lost empathetically delving into the depths of that thing, no thanks and goodbye.
Stiles would latch the box, but the pencil is stopping him. Instead, he looks up to the two adults (900 year old ancient fox lady and nebulous-aged druid) sitting across.
"Why in hell would he want that?" Stiles responds, finally.
Deaton is looking at the little box with a face Stiles can't decipher. He feels confused, though - a bitter, nauseous tang in the back of Stiles' throat.
Because this is all new to the Doc, and he's pretty much just winging the whole thing.
Stiles glowers and turns his focus to Noshiko, smooths out his expression in the process. "And you? What do you think, as an ex-kitsune?"
She purses her lips at him - but Stiles is used to this sort of reaction, so he doesn't much care if his words could be considered rude. He just stabbed a nogitsune fly with a blunt 2B pencil; things getting weirder is just par for the course now, and Stiles doesn't really feel like allowing any pretence.
The flash of lightning is gone, and Noshiko actually sighs, what the hell, before answering.
"He's old." She says, finally. "One-thousand and no tails, One-thousand and stuck travelling from host to host at the whims of others. Stuck fifty years underneath a tree that sapped his strength once it was chopped down, used his powers to hurt without sharing what that caused."
"So what," Stiles frowns, "You're saying It's - tired?"
He can't help the incredulity. They - It didn't seem very tired when he was murdering his friend and hurting the rest.
"Not exactly." She responds. "He's old, with no family and no heir of his own - not in the traditional sense." Noshiko continues, as she sets up a game of Go.
"And?" Stiles says - doesn't ask. "So what? Why would that matter to such a psychopathic asshole?"
"He's a fox - even if a twisted one." She muses. "Perhaps he wishes death because he was out-tricked by wolves and humans and another kitsune far younger than himself."
"Heir?" Stiles remembers - narrows his eyes and questions. There's a sharp, bitter tang in the air, like ozone, and as much as Noshiko loves her daughter, the loss of her powers still stings.
"Yes. Foxes build families, not packs, and even nogitsune do the same."
She sounds - well, senses uncertain. Stiles thinks that the two opposite are actually just talking out their asses, but he'll sit through the bull if it gives him something useful to work with.
Stiles allows her lack of surety and picks up the box, lightly tosses it up once in his hand, then catches it.
"How powerless is he?" Stiles inquires - isn't sure which would know better about this subject, because neither have ever experienced anything quite like this before, in their long careers as members of the supernatural world.
"He can't do anything to you." Deaton says. "It's unlikely that he will be able to move... I doubt the fox could harm anybody in it's condition."
Stiles nods, uncaps the box, leaves in the pencil (because, okay, this thing hurt his friends, killed Allison - made him be the reason she's gone, so Stiles is allowed petty vengeance) and concentrates.
"Stiles." Deaton warns - but he ignores the vet.
Pain. A burning desire to cause, to feed, and yet a wish to end the suffering - she's lost it all this time, he has and there's nothing that can be done for her. Flashes of her host, the way they fit (They forced the fit) and reflected back the same image; a wish for the sweet irony of the perfect host being the one to destroy him -
Stiles breathes out a shaky breath, comes back to himself.
"You're right," Stiles says to Deaton. "He wants to die."
Deaton nods, Noshiko stares - impassive for the time being.
Stiles places the Nogitsune back down on the table, and Noshiko removes the pencil, recaps the lid and latches it, but leaves the box where Stiles put it.
"What happened during your visit to the Nemeton's roots?" Noshiko asks, and despite the unexpected nature of the question Stiles feels prepared enough to answer, mainly because it creeped him the fuck out enough to tell people like the adults opposite the actual truth about what happened, for once.
"It dragged us down in this weird cocoon of roots and downloaded some shit into our brains." He says drily. Thinking about it, Stiles clarifies "Malia and me."
"Oh and it talked to me, which was very much incredibly disturbing, thank you very much." Stiles added. "Never again will I visit that clearing, just so you know."
Deaton hums, the fuck, and says "I doubt you'll have much choice in the matter."
Stiles scowls, because of course he won't but he'd rather think that he does (because control may be overrated but that's not to say he doesn't like it -)
There's a hum of thunder in his ears and Stiles flicks his eyes up to Noshiko. "What are you thinking?" He asks, doesn't read, because she's nine-hundred years old and the empathy doesn't tell him everything when he doesn't want it to.
"I think you should keep a hold of the box." She says - Stiles jerks, blinks - stares.
"What no - why? ... what."
Stiles stares some more, because that idea seems absurd, why the hell would anyone think that was a good plan.
"The nogitsune may reveal more if I weren't here." She extrapolates, that thunder-static louder in his hears. Noshiko's nervous, he realises - Stiles stares some more, because whatever's happening, this ancient fox lady is actually worried about, for fucks sake, and Stiles is so not ready for this shit it's unreal.
"Fine." Stiles allows - abrupt. "Sure, I'll take it. Where in hell I'll keep it I've no clue, but I'll take it."
Deaton inclines his head. "Then that's all I'm here for. There is no link that's worrying, at least. If you wish to talk, I'll be at my clinic."
And with that the doc's out, down the hall and through the door. Stiles can hear the engine start, feels the sweet tang of relief (like oranges, he thinks) at the back of his throat.
Stiles turns his head to Noshiko. There's tea on the table he hadn't noticed before, go all set out and ready to play.
"White or black?" She asks, and Stiles says "White" on reflex.
Noshiko nods and turns the board around. Stiles isn't sure about the real rules of this game, but is certain he'll learn them quick enough.
(It wasn't really go that they'd been playing. Not in the ways that count.)
"I'll go first then," She responds, makes her move.
"Okay." Stiles replies. He senses surprise, but doesn't know why - and makes his own move in return.
"Good." Noshiko nods. "Do you know the rules?"
"Not exactly," Stiles replies. "The nogitsune wasn't one for rules - you know that."
There's a quirk of her lips in response - a light breeze that ruffles his thought and Stiles thinks amusement.
"No." Noshiko agrees. "He was not."
Stiles nods. She makes her move and says - "You realise none of that was in English, Stiles?"
Stiles blinks, makes his own move. "No." He falters. "I didn't."
Chapter 3: Talk, Tea, and Other Things That Don't Begin With The Letter 'T'.
Summary:
A game of Go.
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Noshiko pours tea into his cup, and Stiles takes it.
"So if it wasn't English then what was it?" He asks, sips the tea even though the taste isn't exactly pleasant. He's used to it by now; a few tries recently and memory echoes of years of similar beverages making it easier.
"Japanese." Noshiko says. "The first was a relatively modern form - a couple hundred years old - and the other was one of the first forms of the language after it truly became known by that name."
"Oh." Stiles says - not faintly, but bluntly; he's a little surprised, sure, but mostly he's just - he knew, Stiles thinks; he knew what they were even if it all just sounded like English to him.
Noshiko takes a sip of her drink, places down her cup.
The board is the largest one Go is played on, so far as Stiles knows. Nineteen by nineteen - this is not to be a quick game.
"As is the rules of Go, black moves first." She says. Stiles nods, and Noshiko makes her move. Stiles takes his piece and places it down, frowning in consideration.
The board had been smaller on the Nemeton, in the mindspace. The Nogitsune probably just wanted a quicker game.
Noshiko places down another piece, takes a sip of her tea then says: "You can read the emotions and gather the thoughts of others through that, yes?"
Stiles pauses in his movement - looks up to Noshiko, white stone in hand. "Ehrm. Yes?"
Noshiko glances over to the Nogitsune.
"What did you read of him?"
"Like I said." Stiles says. "They're tired. She's - He wants the irony of me being the one to... off them."
Noshiko frowns. Stiles places his piece, and Noshiko places hers; it looks to be that she's half going for making prisoners of half his stones. Stiles deliberately places his next one in a way that stalls her effort, and she nods to him.
"Good." She says. "Paying attention is key to winning this game."
Noshiko places her piece, and seems to ponder something as Stiles places his.
"How many memories of the Nogitsune's did you receive?"
"All of them, pretty much." Stiles says. "Not clearly - they're in the state He had them in, meaning over a thousand years a bunch of it's deteriorated, but at least, say, nine-hundred or so years are viable and out of that four-hundred or so are clear, while only a hundred and... say - thirty eight are detailed."
"Knowledge seems to have stuck, however." She says. "Regarding the language capabilities you just demonstrated."
Stiles frowned, nodded, took a sip of the tea. "I guess." He said. "There's also some memories belonging to Their various hosts and Summoners over the years. The Summoners that they possessed, at any rate. I guess I could've just stopped at various hosts but - whatever."
Stiles deliberately avoided thinking of Rhys, because it would be inevitable that weird shit regarding the old fox lady across from him would show up, which - no thank you.
She'd looked scarily like Kira in her youth, Stiles allowed himself to know. Identical, in a way that seemed more than natural.
There's a sharp wind that cuts his mental thought process and drags his attention back to the woman across. She's - worried, he knows - worried that he knows.
"I can block out what I don't wanna know." Stiles adds. "But - some stuff slips through."
"I don't suppose you know of the resemblance between my younger self and Kira?"
"Well, if I hadn't I would now." Stiles pointed out, "But yeah. No offence, but it's actually kind of scary how identical you were."
Noshiko grimaced. That was something he'd never had expected from her - it honestly nearly gave him whiplash. Her emotions managed to nearly give him a headache, though, so he looked away and drank some more tea.
"Your turn, Stiles."
Stiles turns to the board and places another stone, avoiding capture for the second time.
"You understand that there are likely other leftover powers than just the ability to take pain in as a food source and the memories, correct?"
"You're forgetting the empathy and enhanced strength, there," Stiles says drily, but nods after. "I can't imagine They lasted one-thousand years without a lot of power."
"That is where having an heir comes in." Noshiko says, placing her stone. Stiles places his, and shrugs. "I still don't get that." He admits. "So, is it kind of like with you and Kira?"
There's a sharp bite to the wind now, and Stiles winces. "Sorry, sorry."
"You're partly correct." Noshiko says, ignoring the apology. "Kira is... something special. I suppose the easiest way to name it that you would understand would be a doppelganger."
Stiles pauses. "Oh." He says - surprised. "Wait, no, that makes sense, what with the practically cloned nature of your appearances."
"She is also my daughter. And Kitsune lose their power to their children, and yet she is a doppelganger - I fear that doesn't bode well for her future." The ex-kitsune admits, frowning. "But that is beside the point, and irrelevant. The Nogitsune has... chosen you, for better or worse, as his heir. That is slightly different than his child. And you are certainly not his doppelganger."
"What am I to Them, then?"
"A reflection." She says. "He said it more than once, I assume? He is, for all intents and purposes, your shadow. Not that of the Jungian kind - that is all yours - but a creature that is indeed, a dark and twisted being, that has been given the purpose in all it's years to mould itself after a particular person... to change that mould and convince the person that what they are is not what they thought they were."
"Apparently I was the 'perfect host'." Stiles said. "But only because They made it fit."
Noshiko inclines her head. "You may think that means He made you fit to Him, but rather - in the end - He made Himself fit to you."
Stiles tried to register this as Noshiko places her stone. He drinks some more tea to stall, and Noshiko lets him.
After placing his stone, Stiles frowns for a moment. "So what your saying is... the Nogitsune spent one-thousand years on this earth just to... mess with me?"
"No." Noshiko says. "And yes."
"Well that clears things up, thanks a bunch." Stiles mutters sarcastically.
"It is a complicated situation." Noshiko says. "However my husband will be home soon. Take it with you." She gestures to the box. "And we shall continue this game at a later date."
Stiles pauses, looks at her askance. "Alright." He says, dubious. "If you're sure."
Noshiko affirms her sure-ness, and Stiles takes the box. And the pencil.
"Assuming you won't want this any longer?" He taps the pencil, and she inclines her head. "If you wish."
Stiles takes the pencil.
"Bye, then." Stiles says awkwardly. He turns, goes to exit the house.
At the door, he hears Noshiko say "A shadow only truly exists where there is light, Stiles. Remember that." and then she's off, somewhere, and Stiles exits the house.
Alright then. Stiles tightens his grip on the box, and pockets the pencil.
Time to report back, he figures, gets into the jeep before Kira can turn up and ask too many questions he can't answer truthfully, and drives home.
Notes:
This was a pretty shitty multi-chaptered fic, imo, but here it was. a 'three-shot', just for Sunday (the important bits regardless) and, well, yeah.