Hey, it's been a while. Hope everyone is doing well.

"Follow me into the dark and I will lead you to the light

Flawless, soundless, fearless

Hearts keep holding on all through the night"

Art of War by We The Kings

Wonder Pup: We need to talk to Kira asap

I raised a brow at my phone after reading the text from Scott. Despite waking up with the rising sun about eight hours earlier, I still didn't like having to do anything on a Saturday, especially after robbing a damn armored car the previous night and whispered words invading my dreams. The recurring feeling of Kincaid pulling on my chain and jerking my body forward had woken me up at least once in the night, along with the echoey, mechanical snarls of Oni, and the haunting laugh of the nogitsune. The laugh and snarls echoed throughout my mind well after I woke up, filling me with a sense of dread at the implication.

But I changed out of my pajamas anyway after telling Scott I'd pick him up from his house to drive over to Kira's.

On the way there, I wondered what he could possibly need to talk to Kira about. It wasn't like she knew anything about the supernatural world. She hadn't even known she was a part of it, so expecting her to know how to resolve our current situation was out of the question. Well, unless he had questions about her family. That she might be able to help with, but unless she was aware that her mother had defeated the nogitsune last time it was in Beacon Hills, I doubted she'd be of much help for any questions Scott might have.

I pulled up in front of Scott's house, honked twice, then waited for him to come running out a few seconds later. He was pulling on his coat as he ran over to my car parked at the curb, but what caught my eye was the thing he was carrying: a sheathed katana.

The moment he climbed into the passenger seat and shut the door, I gave him an odd look and asked, "What the hell is that?" I gestured to the sword as he settled in the seat. The saya was old, aging wood, the silk braid around the handle of the sword was worn and dry, and the chain keeping the katana secured in the saya had hints of rust.

"Stiles wasn't as safe in Eichen House as he thought," Scott answered vaguely.

"What does that have to do with my question?"

"Remember Malia?" he asked instead of answering.

As much as I wanted to tell him to get to the point, I sighed and said, "The coyote? Yeah. What about her?"

"Stiles found her at Eichen," Scott said and paused as if expecting me to be surprised or something. "She brought this to me."

I wasn't surprised in the slightest to learn she had been at Eichen. Malia was a coyote for eight years after killing her sister and mother, adopted but still, when she was only eight or nine. Sure, by that point she'd been through a good amount of language and social development, but the time elapsed combined with the trauma-induced, of course, she wasn't exactly going to be completely right in the head when it came to human morality, manners, or mental health. She probably lasted no more than two weeks before Mr. Tate recognized she needed professional aid to help her cope with her new reality. And if he wanted to keep her close, Eichen House was the obvious choice.

When I made no move to speak or react, Scott continued, "Okay, and they ended up finding a body in the basement behind a wall that was carved with the same symbol the Oni marked us with. With the body was this sword and a picture." He stuck his hand in his jacket pocket and grabbed a small photograph. "And now, the nogitsune is back in control of Stiles, and Malia was told to find me by Morrell who apparently works at Eichen now."

The nogitsune being in control of Stiles again wasn't surprising either considering what I had dreamed about. And it was only a matter of time before the poison keeping it at bay wore off.

"Why didn't you lead with that?" I asked, holding out my hand.

He shrugged and handed me the photo. "I thought you might want a little background."

Looking down at the photograph, it was of a man and a woman with the woman looking like an older version of Kira. Not much older, seemingly only in her mid-twenties. The man was in an old military uniform, and in the photo, he was looking down at the woman who sat nearby in a pretty dress. It was old and faded, and turning it around to look at the back, it said 1943.

I quietly hummed, turning the photo back around to look at the people again, while Scott said, "That doesn't surprise you either, does it?"

Shrugging, I answered, "Not really. It's probably Noshiko. With a near-perfect American accent, she's likely been in the states for a long time." I wiggled the photo. "Since at least the forties it seems."

"Right," Scott mumbled, taking the photo back and slipping it into his pocket. "Your mom is four-hundred and claims not to be old. I guess it makes sense that Kira's mom is really old, too." He then held up the scabbard. "Can you explain this and the body though?"

"That we'd have to ask Noshiko about." Especially since it was all in Eichen House for whatever reason. "I doubt Kira will know anything about any of this."

"She should probably be shown it though."

"Oh, yeah, definitely," I agreed, shifting in my seat to face the steering wheel. "Maybe they'll all be home and we've hit the jackpot. Buckle up, Scotty." He didn't need to be told twice and buckled his seatbelt before I started driving toward Kira's house.

Once we arrived at Kira's house, I noticed that the driveway was empty and frowned. That shot the hope of all the Yukimura's being home. I then hoped that at least Kira would be there seeing as she had a grand total of two friends, me and Boyd.

Scott and I hopped out of my car, walked up to the front door, and knocked. It didn't take very long for the door to open to show Kira in a black skater skirt. My mouth did a little shrug as I looked her outfit over and said, "Cute."

She looked taken aback for a second before smiling. "Thanks."

"We need to show you something," Scott said. "Preferably in private."

Kira gave him an odd look and said, "That didn't sound creepy at all." She held the door open wider. "Come on in." She led us into the living room. "Both of my parents are gone, so it's just us. What's up?" She sat on a chair while Scott and I sat on the couch.

"The nogitsune is in control of Stiles again," I said, leaning on the armrest.

Kira donned a horrified look. "Oh, my god. How are you so nonchalant about it?"

I awkwardly glanced between her and Scott, shifting in my seat. Scott looked a mixture of curious and concerned, so I assumed he had a feeling about the reason. "My dreams tipped me off, but that's not the point." I waved my hand. "It's what Stiles found at Eichen before losing control of his body again." I motioned toward Scott.

Scott pulled out the picture again and handed it over to her.

Kira took the small picture from his grasp and gingerly turned it over, looking over both the back and the front. "This looks a lot like me," she said in surprise. "It has to be my grandmother."

"Doubt it," I said. "It's probably almost definitely your mother."

"What?" Her face twisted up in confusion. "But this is from the forties."

"And kitsune can live for centuries, especially full kitsune like your mom," I explained. "I'd bet my college fund on her being older than my mom who's four hundred. That isn't to say half-kitsune can't live as long as them, but it depends on the straw you drew at birth, and when they decided to have kids."

That didn't seem to dissolve much of her confusion as she lowered the picture to her lap, turning it in her hand as she thought about the new information. One of these days I should really just sit her down and layout as much about kitsune as I can.

"So this is my mom?" she slowly asked, pointing at the photo.

"Probably. Don't know who the guy is though. And it sucks that she was in an internment camp."

Scott picked his head up. "Wait, if your mom is four hundred years old, that means she also lived through World War II."

A small scoff escaped at the revelation. "I can't believe I never thought of that," I said, turning to him. "No wonder she became a psychologist. Living through internment camps probably did a number on her." All of a sudden, more things about my mom made sense, especially her sense of protecting her own.

"Sorry to undermine that information," Kira spoke up, half raising her hand to get our attention, "but how did Stiles find this at a mental health facility?"

I snorted. "That's a polite way to describe Eichen."

"Remember being told about Malia?" Scott asked. Kira nodded. "She went to Eichen House, too, and was the last one who saw Stiles. The picture and this—" He picked up the sword he had set between us. "They found these buried with a body behind a wall. The same symbol that the Oni put on us was carved into the wall."

"Yeah, that's what I don't fully get yet," I said, drumming my fingers on the couch. "I mean, it's the kanji for 'self', onore. The Oni branded us with it because we're supernatural but not the one they were looking for."

"Is there another meaning for it?" Kira asked. I swear I heard a tiny sliver of hope shining through her voice. Poor hopeful Kira. Typically, other meanings aren't good when it comes to us.

My lips pulled together in distaste. "Don't use it. It's not typically used in a good sense." They only looked at me oddly, understandably, so I sighed and rolled my neck before jumping into a short explanation. "There are loads of ways to say 'you' in Japanese, each with different connotations. Onore is not typically one of the polite or happy ones. It's just, don't. I kind of understand why we'd get branded with it, but why was it carved into a wall in the basement at Eichen?"

Before either of them could ask anything else, Kira's text tone went off. She picked up her phone from the coffee table and opened it, frowning after reading the text.

"What is it?" Scott asked.

"My dad."

I drove as fast as I could to the school without breaking many serious laws, and after parking, Scott, Kira, and I ran to Ken's classroom. If Noshiko needed some weird mushrooms ASAP for Ken on a Saturday then I did not like the implication.

We slid into the open classroom to see Ken hunched over, unable to breathe, and Noshiko knelt next to him, rubbing her hand over his back. She looked up at us the moment we made our appearance.

"Kira, did you bring it?" she asked.

Kira handed over the jar. "You going to tell me what 'it' is?"

"Reishi." The simple name did nothing to assuage any curiosities, but Noshiko focused on unscrewing the jar and pulling out a small piece of dried mushroom.

"You're not seriously giving Dad magic mushrooms?" Kira asked, shaking her head with her eyes wide.

Noshiko didn't respond as she placed the bit of mushroom into Ken's mouth. Ken then coughed into a napkin and showed black blood characteristic of supernatural injuries. And it looked like something was stuck in it.

I didn't get a good look at what it was as Noshiko helped her husband stand and asked him, "Are you okay?" Ken nodded his answer, still a bit out of breath.

"Stiles did this?" Scott asked, looking pained over the ordeal.

Noshiko turned back to us. "He wanted the last kaiken." She delicately pulled out a black dagger from her sleeve. I could feel a hint of power radiating from it. "I've kept this near me ever since your friend disappeared." I wasn't a fan of her accusatory tone, but I understood it all the same, having kept my own close by ever since the darach fiasco began earlier in the semester.

"Mom, you need to talk to us—about everything," Kira said, and she held the old picture out.

Noshiko's face dropped as she laid eyes on the aging photograph. Slowly, she grabbed it from Kira, careful with her handling of it. "Where did you get this?"

"It's you, isn't it?" Kira asked.

"Yes."

"So, out of curiosity," I spoke up, "how old are you?"

"Close to nine hundred."

That wasn't the answer Kira was expecting, or rather hoping, to hear. "Okay, sure, why not?" She turned to Ken. "Dad, how old are you?"

"Forty-three," Ken said simply as though she was asking because she needed to know how many candles to put on his birthday cake on not because she wanted to know if he was ancient. "But I've been told I look mid-thirties." He offered up an innocent smile.

Kira awkwardly chuckled then met her mother's gaze. Noshiko's eyes dropped to the sword in Kira's other hand, and Kira held it out, giving it to her mom. Noshiko took it and moved to Ken's desk, held it over the surface, then tugged harshly on the handle, breaking the chain securing the sword to the scabbard. Then she tipped the scabbard, and out fell shards of a shattered katana.

"The blade shattered the last time it was used," Noshiko explained, setting down the scabbard and handle.

"When was that?" Kira asked.

"1943, against a nogitsune."

"Was it the host who the sword and picture were buried with at Eichen?" I asked.

Noshiko nodded, eyes and lips downturned. "Yes."

"And it's the same nogitsune now as it was before, right?" Scott pressed, though it was obvious he wanted that answer to be a no.

"'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,'" Ken quoted, leaning on the desk.

"George Santayana," Kira muttered with a small eyeroll.

While on the one hand the quote had a significant bearing on many aspects of history, I didn't appreciate its usage at that moment. "Hey, we didn't summon it," I said with a frown. "It's not our fault that we didn't know there were remnants of a nogitsune buried in the Nemeton. Not even Deaton knew."

"But you knew something would happen," Ken argued. "Activating a supernatural beacon has consequences."

"We expected those consequences to be normal supernatural creatures being drawn here, not a damn nogitsune that wasn't even summoned by us in the first place. And it was either activate the Nemeton or let a darach reach full power and continue killing people. It's hard to 'remember the past' if we don't know the full story."

Scott grabbed my arm, pulling me back as I took a step toward the two adults. I looked up at him, and he gently shook his head. So, I sighed. Yeah, yeah, it's not the time.

Kira glanced warily between me, her parents, and the blade. "Where did it come from?" she asked.

"It was an internment camp during World War II," Noshiko answered. "In Oak Creek, not far from here."

"There once was a camp, but all records were erased," Ken said.

Noshiko's eyes hardened. "They covered it up."

Ken opened his desk drawer, pulled out a stuffed journal, and began pulling things out of it as he spoke. "When I was a grad student, my passion project—actually more like an obsession—was trying to dig up the truth on Oak Creek." He laid out a few pictures from the journal then looked up at Noshiko with a soft expression. "It's how I met your mother, Kira."

"You got to the point faster than Ted Mosby," I muttered, and Scott elbowed me.

Kira picked up one of the pictures Ken had taken out, showing what looked to be a burn victim covered in bandages. "So, where did the nogitsune come from?" she asked, turning to her mom.

"Isn't it obvious, yet?" Noshiko looked away. "It came from me."

"How?"

Noshiko's fingers idly ran along the pieces of the katana as she began her story. "There were dozens of us shoved into the small camp, ripped away from families and friends. With so little to do, we did our best to try and make the most of our lives there." She sighed and set her hand on the desk. "As a kitsune, I knew that my life in the camp would be nothing but a short blip of time, so I did my best to make things easier for everyone else.

"I stole supplies from the delivery trucks whenever I could. Things like food, basic medicine, extras of things that wouldn't be missed, things that wouldn't be distributed to us anyway."

Noshiko smiled sadly as she thought of her past. "Rinko would also distribute everything I took. She was a lot calmer than me. Always made sure everyone was helped. She reminded me of my mother. One time, I stole a baseball from one of the MPs and gave it to a little boy named Michio, and she scolded me. She was worried about him being punished. But nothing she said put a damper on my attempts to liven the spirits like Satomi's silent judging."

"Wait, Satomi?" I interrupted. "Like Satomi Ito?"

She blinked in surprise. "Yes, you know her?"

"Yeah, she's an alpha," I said. "I saw her often at the Hale House. Been old for as long as I've known her."

"There's another alpha in Beacon Hills?" Scott asked.

I shrugged and explained, "She and her pack operate throughout the entire county, not just the town. I haven't seen them since the fire. At least, that I know of, and I really only knew Satomi anyway." I raised my hands in a placating manner. "They're peaceful and keep mostly to themselves." Nothing like Deucalion and his alpha pack. "Practice some aspects of Buddhism as a form of control."

"I didn't know she was a werewolf at the time," Noshiko said. "But hindsight is 20/20. She got migraines every month, so once I stole some painkillers, hoping she'd lighten up, but she refused to take them, saying she preferred to suffer."

I huffed and folded my arms over my stomach. "They wouldn't have worked anyway. I see why she didn't accept them."

"Looking back, I think she knew I was a kitsune." She shifted one of the katana pieces. "She scolded me for taking things too frequently, called me a young fox who knows the rules in order to break them, and likened herself to an older wiser animal who knows the exceptions to the rules. She made playing Go seem intimidating."

"I know the feeling," Scott said quietly, looking at the floor. I gave him a skeptical look, but he didn't notice.

"Despite me being older, she was right," Noshiko conceded, looking up from the broken katana. "The baseball I stole and gave to Michio ended up sailing through a window and breaking it, alerting the MPs. Everyone rushed to put things away, hiding them in sheets, under beds and pillows, in chests. We tried our best to act normal when they walked in, one of them holding the baseball. They asked about the stolen supplies, too. One of the MPs, Merrick, tried to grope Rinko while Hayes began searching one of the beds, but Corporal Rhys stepped in.

"Rhys was the only one who didn't abuse his post. He ordered an inspection in the morning, giving us plenty of time to hide things better or get rid of things. And he gave the baseball back to Michio. But not everyone focused on the small positive. Satomi gave me a look and said, 'Jigoujitoku, Noshiko-chan.' I wish I had taken her words to heart."

"You reap what you sow," I roughly translated.

Noshiko nodded and motioned for Kira to move closer to her, and she started moving the pieces of the katana around, like putting a puzzle back together, but Kira remained rigid with her arms folded over her.

"Kira, I need your help on this," Noshiko said, looking up at her daughter. "There isn't much time, and this is something that needs to be done in the daylight."

"Not until you tell us everything," Kira said.

"Tell them, Noshiko," Ken agreed. "Tell them what they need to know."

Noshiko wasn't as on board with it as her husband, eyeing Scott warily as he shifted toward me under Noshiko's harsh gaze. "Foxes and wolves tend not to get along, and not just in fables and stories."

"But allies, however unlikely, should be welcomed—especially in times of war," Ken argued.

Noshiko was not pleased with her husband's meddling, slamming down a shard of the katana.

"I get it," I told her, meeting her eyes and putting myself in between her and Scott. "My mom has the same opposition toward werewolves as you, but if you can't trust Scott, trust me. Ken said he trusted me to do what needed to be done, so I need to know everything. And it's about time Kira gets told, too."

Noshiko sighed and said, "Alright. Rhys was the only one who didn't abuse his post, but part of it, the softness and care he showed us compared to the other MPs could've been because we were in love. We found ways to meet up with each other around the camp. And after the incident with the baseball, he said something similar to what Rinko and Satomi had told me, that I needed to lighten up with how much I took. But also that he could help take things as well. He gave me a chocolate bar. I hadn't had chocolate in what seemed like forever. It was a little moment of pure bliss in a dark world, but he was my handsome medic."

"Okay, stop. Just stop!" Kira cut in, turning to her mother. "We don't want to hear your Casablanca story. We wanna know how to save Stiles."

"I'm trying to tell you—"

"You're trying to stall," Scott said. He gestured to the windows where the sunlight was still shining through. "When the sun goes down, the Oni are gonna come after him again, aren't they?"

"Your friend's gone, Scott," Ken tried, his scolding teacher voice coming out.

"I don't think you know that for sure."

"Stiles is still in there," I agreed. "There has to be a way to get the nogitsune out."

"It's not his fault," Kira added.

Noshiko shook her head at us, looking at each of us in turn. "You are young and naïve. If you live as long as I have—"

"We'll what?" I interrupted. "Older isn't synonymous with wiser. Look at you and Satomi. She saw coming what you refused to see. Wisdom may come with experience, but even then, there's always more than one solution. There's always more than meets the eye."

"Stiles may be your friend," she then looked at Scott, "he may be like a brother to you, but he is nogitsune now." Her jaw clenched as she leaned forward, desperately trying to get her point across. "He is void."

But Scott wasn't having it. "You brought the Oni," he said. "Can you call them off?"

"When you hear the rest of the story, you won't want me to."

I sighed and waved my hand. She was going to drag this out. "Fine, then continue your story."

"Rhys and I found ways to see each other," Noshiko continued. "Sometimes at the barracks, sometimes in the bunkers where they parked military vehicles. He was being transferred to North Africa in a few weeks. I was teaching him some French." Part of her voice grew wispy as she thought back fondly. "He had particular trouble with coup de foudre." She shook her head. "But our little slice of happiness didn't last forever. During one of our meetups, we got distracted by people nearby. We watched Merrick and Hayes talking with the camp doctor. They were whispering, talking quickly. . ."

She trailed off, her expression and stance stiffening, and her hand clenched.

"Noshiko," Ken said, getting her attention.

Noshiko snapped out of her thoughts and lowered her hand, showing the blood dripping from it.

"Mom, what are you doing?" Kira asked.

Noshiko remained unphased as she dropped a piece of the katana and took the cloth offered by Ken, wiping away the blood from her palm to reveal no wound.

Kira was shocked to see the lack of a cut despite the amount of blood. "How did you do that?"

"It's one of our talents—something you'll learn, Kira," Noshiko assured. "You should've noticed by now that you never get sick. Ever. You'll never experience something as simple as a common cold. Something as bad as the flu. Or something like pneumonia."

Noshiko wiped the rest of the blood away and set the bloodied cloth aside while speaking. "There was an epidemic going around the camp. Everyone was coming down with pneumonia, but Rhys told me there wasn't enough medicine, medicine that I had seen a lot more of when I was stealing off the delivery truck. Rhys checked his log, but we already knew what was happening. Dr. Liston was using Merrick and Hayes to sell medicine on the black market."

Her voice grew more desperate, shaky, doused in restrained anger. "The little boy Michio was the first to die."

Noshiko gripped the edge of the desk, her hands quivering. Ken reached over and set a hand over hers. And she continued her story as it took a turn for the worse.

"I told Rinko and the others what Rhys and I had figured out," she said. "They were furious, especially Michio's father Hayate. Rinko tried to keep everyone calm, telling them we should issue a formal complaint to the administration, but everyone knew that would result in nothing. They didn't care about us. None of the officials at the camp did. Then Hayate readied a bottle of alcohol with a rag sticking out of it. A simple Molotov cocktail."

Noshiko looked down at the shard that had cut her hand. "I had realized the mistake I had made by speaking too soon. I wasn't helping anyone. I was inciting a riot. As Merrick, Hayes, and Liston tried to leave the camp, everyone gathered around the car to stop them from leaving. Yelling at them to get out of the car, wanting to make them pay for what they had done. Rhys did his best to keep the MPs from opening fire. I yelled for them to stop. But so many people were sick, and so many were dying. I'd never seen anger like that. It was a living, breathing thing.

"Hayate lit the rag, but he didn't throw it. Too late he seemed to know that the anger wasn't helping, that it would only result in more pain. But Satomi pushed through the crowd and stood before Merrick who had readied his gun. The next thing I knew, Satomi was on the ground. He had hit her with his gun."

My stomach grew uneasy. The bastard had pistol-whipped Satomi. Satomi, who always tried to remain calm and reasonable, was a voice of peace and security.

"I rushed to make sure she was alright as the crowd drew in on Merrick to make him pay for hitting her, and I saw her eyes glowing bright yellow. Now I knew why Satomi was always trying to keep quiet. Why she got migraines once a month, and why she was always at the game of Go. It kept her calm."

"She was bitten," Scott realized, knowing that a born werewolf would likely need more anger than simply getting hit once to force a shift.

"Bitten werewolves have a harder time suppressing their anger," Noshiko said. "One unexpected flare-up and they could lose all control." She looked away from us with a quiet sniffle and tried to occupy herself with putting the pieces of the katana back together. That time, Kira began helping her. "Hayate had been walking away, and Satomi grabbed the bottle from him and threw it. But it hit Rhys. Then the MPs began shooting. They shot into the crowd, and we dropped like flies. I don't know how many died as the crowd scattered.

"The gunfire nearly killed me. I don't know how many bullets made their way into my body, but I fought every one of them. It left my body so weak, my heartbeat so slow, it appeared as though I was dead. But even then, I was still better off than Rhys." Her voice shook and her fingers twitched.

"He initially survived the burns and was taken away to be treated, but the nurses and doctors could only do so much. His screams could be heard throughout Eichen House. . . echoing through every room, every hallway. He died in agony. The doctor, it seems, had also sold the morphine."

She wiped away a tear. "Merrick and Hayes were given the task of getting rid of the bodies, both American and Japanese American. They were transferring Dr. Liston out as well, stationing him somewhere else."

Noshiko looked out the window at the dwindling sunlight. "They were covering it up. The doctor, Merrick, Hayes, and all the others. They were going to get away with murder." She folded in on herself, wrapping her arms around herself in an effort to remain steady. "By chance, I guess, Rhys' body had been put next to mine.

"But as I laid next to him, all I could feel was anger and hatred at all the pain they had caused. Taking us away from our homes to be put in camps. Treating us like prisoners for something we had no part in. Taking what little happiness we could find. I wanted the soldiers and the administration of the camp to be punished for their crimes, but I knew the clock was ticking. I was going to lose my chance. They were going to burn me with the others. I couldn't fight back with my body weakened and still healing. I could barely move. I was going to die.

"With time slipping through my fingers, I knew I was making a terrible decision, but I could not die knowing that they would get away. So, I called out to our ancestors for kitsune-tsuki, possession by a fox spirit. For a powerful nogitsune to take control of my weakened body, imbue it with power, and use it as a weapon."

The air froze around us, filled with tension and pain from the story. I could only imagine what she had felt. To know exactly what a nogitsune was capable of and to still summon one. I always knew it would take something great to get a kitsune to summon a nogitsune, but to hear the story and see the aftermath was something else.

"But calling on a trickster is a dangerous thing," she said, her voice strained. "They can have a very dark sense of humor. Because while the nogitsune did come to possess someone, it wasn't me."

"It was Rhys, wasn't it?" I asked softly. "The nogitsune used his body. It's his body that is in Eichen."

"Yes." She looked down at her feet.

"What happened?" Scott asked.

"My body was beginning to heal, and I managed to pull myself up from the ground. But it was too late. All I could do was watch as he killed Merrick and Hayes then drive off in the truck."

"What did it do?" Scott asked, needing to know.

Noshiko's face said it all. "It brought chaos, strife, and more pain than you can imagine. More than what you've seen here. When I was able to walk, I hurried to Eichen House, but no one was left. Doctors, nurses, patients, American and Japanese American. It was a massacre. I had to find him. I had to stop him."

Noshiko glanced out the window at the setting sun then faced her daughter. "Kira, hurry. Night is coming." They hurried to finish moving all the pieces of the katana in order as Noshiko finished her story. "I found him in the tunnels at the camp, and with help from Satomi, we killed him. The nogitsune fell and a fly escaped from his mouth. The last of what remained of his spirit. And for a brief moment, Rhys returned. His last words were, 'Coup de foudre.' The literal translation is 'a bolt of lightning.' In French, it can also mean 'love at first sight'. But a bolt of lightning happens to be exactly what we need right now."

"For what?" Kira asked.

"Excising the nogitsune from Rhys' body shattered the katana," she gestured to the pieced-together blade, "but you can put it back together."

I smirked. With a bolt of lightning. Her foxfire.

"Why don't you just do it yourself?" Kira wondered.

"Because I'm not a thunder kitsune."

I grinned and looked up at Scott, thinking, Yes, totally called it! Scott noticed and recognized my expression and rolled his eyes with a small, amused smile. Regardless of my sliver of pride, something about her claim seemed wrong. It shouldn't have mattered what kitsune type Noshiko was if she could produce foxfire, lightning-based or fire-based. A nine-hundred-year-old kitsune should be able to accurately control their production of foxfire, plain and simple.

But then I remembered the Oni and the kaiken. He wanted the last kaiken, she had said. The last dagger. The last of the physical representations of her tails. If Noshiko had all nine tails, that meant she had summoned eight Oni already and sacrificed her power to do so. It didn't matter what type of kitsune Kira turned out to be. Noshiko couldn't form foxfire. She had hardly any of her power left.

She was almost human, just like when she had been close to death. Nearly powerless.

Noshiko held out her hand. "Do you trust me?"

"I just found out you're nine hundred years old," Kira said. "I don't think I'm ever gonna trust you again." While Noshiko looked saddened at her words, I couldn't find myself feeling bad. It's the only plausible reaction from a teenager who found out a life-changing fact about her mother, especially adding it onto everything else that had been kept a secret.

"Trust me on this," Noshiko said and gently grabbed Kira's wrist, bringing her hand up.

Kira looked over at me, and I nodded encouragingly as Noshiko positioned Kira's hand above the shattered blade. A weapon passed down from her mother, potentially imbued with some of Noshiko's own power and spirit, would be invaluable for Kira to begin with. And maybe it could help with repairing the fractured bond between them.

The blade glowed a bright blue as lightning flickered down from Kira's palm, and the pieces began melding back together, powered by Kira's innate ability to channel lightning-based foxfire. The metal hummed with warmth and power as the room prickled with static and bathed in bright light.

When the light died out and the blade was sitting there reforged and like new, Kira looked at her mother and breathlessly asked, "What was that?"

"Foxfire," Noshiko answered with a proud smile.

Scott nudged my arm to get my attention, though he was still looking down at the blade. "When you made foxfire, it was red fire." While he had meant to say it quietly and only to me, the others heard his inquiry as well.

"Foxfire manifests in different forms," Noshiko explained. "Thunder and fire kitsune have the easiest time producing it, mostly instinctually. It has magical properties, but it's also more difficult to harness to its full potential." She carefully picked up the newly made sword and held it out to Kira. "Go ahead. It's yours now."

Kira shook her head. "What if I don't want it?"

"You need it." Noshiko tossed it to her, and Kira caught it easily, spinning it in her hand into a ready position. Noshiko smirked while Kira looked surprised. "You see? It gives you balance. My power is yours now, Kira. If the Oni cannot stop Stiles, one of you must, the same as I did." She gave Scott a considering glance. "And maybe seek out a wolf to help you."

But Scott didn't appreciate her attempt to cease the conversation and send us on our way now that she had gotten what she wanted. "You didn't tell us anything," Scott said.

"You want to save Stiles?" Noshiko's brief disappointed gaze hardened. "Kill him. That's the only way."

Scott turned to Ken and gestured to Noshiko with his head. "You agree with this?"

"Sometimes, history does repeat itself, Scott," Ken said.

"Only if you don't learn."

"But sometimes, even then, fate conspires against you."

Before Scott could say anything else, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and read the screen before lowering it and said, "There's a way to save him. There has to be."

Come save me!

I winced at the sudden voice exploding through my head, and I pressed a hand to my temple as I swayed in place. No, no, no, I thought. Not now. Go away. Get out of my head.

Scott noticed and set his hands on my back and arm. "Woah, you okay?" he gently asked.

"It's back," I whispered, looking up at him.

Sara, help me!

I winced again, but that time the voice was accompanied by pain coursing through my head, neck, and shoulders, inducing something unbearable. My breath and pulse picked up.

"He's in your head."

I looked up to see Noshiko staring at me with wide eyes and a sense of realization.

Scott's grip tightened around me as he looked at her. "You know anything about it?"

"It's too late for one friend," she said gravely. "Don't make it too late for another."

Scott moved to grab my hand, black veins sprouting immediately on contact, and he said, "We have to go." Then he pulled me out the door, Kira following close behind.

Saya – a Japanese sword scabbard

Kaiken – a plain dagger traditionally carried by the samurai class and used for defense where longer blades were inconvenient, or for female ritual suicide

Jigoujitoku – What goes around comes around, you reap what you sow, suffering the consequences of one's own actions

Kitsune-tsuki – the state of being possess by a fox