Shadow

The woman, straight-backed and cold-eyed, had somehow antagonized Stiles from the first moment he'd met her. She stood as still as stone, her words curt and harsh, as if she were hiding rage or impatience every goddamn second. Behind her back, the intimidating figures of the Oni, who had not yet picked up the katanas hidden in their sturdy, elegant scabbards, stood as statues deaf to the outside world. Or were they good old-fashioned swords? Checkers? Sabers? It was hard to judge without seeing the blade itself and glancing nervously only at the hilt, but the lady's Asian face hinted that the katana variant had a better chance of winning the "favorite weapon of scary-evil-Japanese-demons" category. Stiles seriously makes bets in his head and grins, looking into the serious face of a woman who must have heard of fun in another life. And in doing so, must have been asleep. That's not what the instant resentment has to do with it, however. Stiles sensed something in his gut, wanted to tuck his nonexistent tail and hide in a dark corner, or, on the contrary, to claw at that stony, haughty face with his fingernails and scratch out the piercing cold eyes. There was no way to understand where the urge came from. But Stiles was used to trusting his intuition, so he unconsciously tensed up and watched the fox closely, trying to look for signs of something dangerous for the pack and for himself. Something dangerous other than demons in grotesque masks, of course. - If it is not too much trouble, my warriors will test you, your veracity. - Noshiko, coming from far away and on a mission, quickly gave the gathered pack a sharp look. She's a kitsune, seeks the spirit of an angry fox and has a sullen mood for life - all that Stiles was able to figure out during Noshiko's brief conversation with Scott, who took it upon himself to negotiate over the burden of being the only Alpha in the area. It's sparse and, frankly, alarming, but Scott, after glancing over at Allison and, oddly enough, Derek, only nods in agreement to her demand, wanting everything to be resolved peacefully and without bloodshed. As always, actually. And not that Stiles is judging, but sooner or later the True Alpha's forgiveness and naiveté is going to come back to bite him in the ass. And not just him, but Stiles too, hanging around so stupidly. - It won't hurt the regular wolves or humans. Only Nogitsune would be hurt. Scott nodded again, glancing at his wary friends, and stepped forward, offering himself as the first test subject. Stiles felt even more uncomfortable, a slight wave of panic and nervousness sweeping over him. He tries to remember if he's taken his medication today, but his head is blank and Noshiko's gaze is sharp as she watches him, knocking the last coherent thoughts out of his head. - One of the Oni will check your identity, after which you'll pass out briefly, young Alpha. No harm done,- Noshiko said again, and Stiles realized that she clearly didn't want a conflict, despite how belligerent and threatening she looked. All she wants is Nogitsune, whose danger she's managed to say about ten times in different variations. But the revelation doesn't bring the expected relief. Something inside is churning and aching, tugging almost painfully and anxiously. Stiles bites his lip and holds back the torrent of meaningless words that want to come out. He always talks a lot when he's nervous. And when he's not nervous, too. But now is not the time for him to talk. He's trying to be inconspicuous, to avoid the stare of tired eyes full of lingering hatred. Kitsune has knocked Stiles off balance with her mere presence, frightening him and making him feel like an enemy with all his meager human instincts. The thought crossed his mind that it would be a good idea if he and the evil Nogitsune were mutually annihilated. After thinking about it a little more consciously and longer, Stiles is convinced that that would be the perfect arrangement. And he's not the least bit ashamed. Stiles flinches as Scott falls to the floor with a thud and jerks, going to help, but Allison and Noshiko get ahead of him. - Clear. - Noshiko, who had been leaning over Scott and looking at something behind his ear, stands up and raises an eyebrow when she sees the werewolves disbelief. - Next. Stiles nearly grinned at her imperious tone and smug expression. Noshiko wasn't just intimidating. She was also angry and annoying. Allison, reassured that Scott was okay, slowly stood up, raising her head and looking boldly at the approaching demon. Oni was surprisingly careful to wrap his arms around the girl's head. The lifeless mask stared as if into the depths of her soul, studying and dissecting. Finally, and the girl collapsed next to the still-unmoving Scott. Noshiko checked the space behind her ear again and hummed in satisfaction. - Next. The pack members fell one by one. Isaac, Derek, Aidan, Ethan. Even Lydia. By the time the red curls were strewn across the floor, Stiles was shaking uncontrollably. He tucked his trembling hands into his pockets, involuntarily starting to back away from the Oni looming over him. Scott and Allison were already up and talking quietly, standing too close to each other. Isaac was helping Derek up, and the twins and Lydia were still on the floor. Stiles wanted to walk over to Lydia and lay her head in his lap, or at least on his folded shirt, but Oni nearby stopped him. He swallowed hard, straining to swallow, licked his lips with his own dry tongue, backing away and not letting Oni out of his sight. His heart hammered hard in his chest, and his eyes darted between his friends and the kitsune squinting suspiciously. - Is that really necessary? Because I'd rather avoid cuddling with murderous demons. I'm not a fan of hugs at all. - Stiles took a few more steps back, watching the looming Oni with growing horror. His heart was pounding hard in his chest. Noshiko looked at him warily and carefully. She took a cautious step forward and casually placed her hand on the hilt of the blade in the scabbard on her belt. The pack, at least the part of it that was conscious, finally turned its attention to the only remaining untested member. - It doesn't hurt, Stiles. It's just a little... uncomfortable, - Scott tried to reassure his friend, but Stiles continued to back away, unable to hear his reassurances. His heart was pounding panickedly often, which was no secret to werewolves. - What are you so afraid of? - Noshiko waved her hand magnanimously, stopping the Oni. Her slight squint and tightly compressed lips didn't bode well. - There's only reason to be frightened if you're Nogitsune. Let me verify your identity, boy, or I'll think you're the one I'm hunting. Stiles grinned crookedly. Aidan stirred on the floor, coming to his senses. - This is ridiculous. If your spirit is in over its head, it will choose someone more... imposing. - Stiles waved his hand, as if to show that he wasn't the best choice. - Nogitsune isn't just looking for a body. He's attracted to mind, soul, and personality. And the more I look at you, the more I'm convinced you're quite his type. - Noshiko curled the corner of her lips into a semblance of a smile. 'Her jokes are as dull as that tortured smile,' thought Stiles, lowering his head. He began to slowly calm himself down, taking deep breaths. - It's going to be okay, Stiles. - Allison waved at him, trying to cheer him up. - I'm pretty sure you're not an evil spirit that wants to throw the whole world into chaos. There's nothing to be afraid of. This ridiculous attempt at reassurance actually gave him confidence. He looked straight into Noshiko's eyes and nodded decisively, authorizing the inspection. The oni approached almost instantly, not prostrating himself with any unnecessary movements. The demon roughly and almost aggressively took his face in his palms, squeezing too hard. Stiles absent-mindedly noted that it would probably leave bruises. From the shock, he didn't even have time to flinch to the side. As if through a layer of water, Stiles could hear Scott's indignant voice that he was unhappy with Oni's excessive roughness, which the demons hadn't shown to anyone but Stiles. But all of that quickly faded into the background, lost in the swirl of yellow eyes and the coldness at his temples. Stiles stared at the golden lights visible through the demon's mask and couldn't look away. They were like fireflies, hypnotizing and not letting go, plunging him into a bright abyss. Cold fingers on his chin and temples felt like vise grips. The icy touches penetrated beneath his skin, touched something more ephemeral and personal. It was as if they were touching his soul, rough and clumsy. Not as carefully and reverently as such delicate and fragile matter demanded. They seemed to stand there for an eternity, burning each other with unseeing gaze, penetrating deeper and exploring more. Stiles sensed that something was wrong, but the thought was too insignificant to seriously consider. Far more important now seemed to be protecting himself from the demon's attempt to brand his soul. They were insistently and rudely trying to paint an inverted five on his very being, a foreign sign that Stiles didn't like. And so he resisted it with all his might. Finally, Oni's grip began to loosen, letting something from the real, material world into his perception. Stiles shook his head gently, finally shaking off his stupor, and with his eyes alone, without turning, began to survey the space. Blinking absent-mindedly, Stiles noticed that other Oni had begun to surround him, pointing their weapons at him. "I wonder if they're katanas after all?" - he thought and turned away from the demon holding him by the chin, driven by curiosity. Immediately the power that had been keeping him still, muffling his emotions and shielding him from reality, vanished, allowing Stiles to recoil from the Oni, who gave off a murderous vibe. Stiles looked around frantically, just to make sure he wasn't mistaken. He was surrounded by Oni with katanas. Katanas. A lump instantly formed in his throat and his chest constricted with fear. He heard the angry snarls and incomprehensible exclamations of his friends, saw the claws and burning eyes behind the demons' backs. The pack was preparing for a fight. Panic gripped him with renewed vigor. - Hey, hey, hey! I don't know what you want, lady, but you seem to have made a mistake! Get your hand demons away from me! - Stiles clumsily dodged the lunge of one of the Oni and, tangled in his own legs, collapsed to the floor with a loud curse, the back of his head hitting the hard floor painfully. The tip of the katana was immediately stabbed into his throat. Noshiko stood directly above him, holding the blade firmly in her hand and assessing him coldly with her gaze. She was completely ignoring the fight behind her back that Oni and the pack were engaged in. Stiles could make out a few of Scott's words in the general clamor, but he couldn't make out what he was trying to say. Allison pulled out her crossbow, which was of little use against the demons; Derek and Scott fought the Oni with loud growls; Aidan stood in front of the still awake Lydia, protecting her from the dark figures in metal masks; and Ethan whimpered softly, clutching the wound with one hand and fighting off the demons with the other, supported by Isaac, who growled angrily. But no one even came close to him or Noshiko. The sounds seemed distant, the occasional shouts from his friends joyless. Stiles suddenly realized that he might as well be killed today. The discovery did not bring the expected horror. It was more of a shame that he would die stupidly and at the hands of someone who was truly disgusting. - There must be some mistake! I'm not Nogitsune or whatever you think I am. Seriously, Jesus. I'm… I'm just Stiles. - I couldn't seem to find the words. My tongue was slurring, and my head was tilting backward and forward in a futile attempt to escape the katana's sharp blade. The warning Noshiko had given at the beginning of the meeting rang out in his head, "Whoever Nogitsune possesses will be killed. A child, a woman, an old man. Whoever let him in cannot be saved." And he, an innocent teenager, a good friend, and a damn virgin was about to be killed! Dammit, he's going to die a virgin, isn't he! Stiles groaned at this injustice. He's as pure as a baby's tear, as innocent as Alan Turing, and as sinless as a bloody angel. Why had he been convicted of aiding and abetting a dark spirit? - You can stop playing, Nogitsune. I've figured you out. And this time, I'll lock you away forever. - She pressed down harder on the blade, tearing through the skin. There was such bloodthirst on her face that all the self-irony that had distracted Stiles from reality vanished. He clenched his eyes shut and clenched his teeth, holding back a painful groan. A thin trickle of warm blood trickled down his neck. Scott growled in righteous anger as he smelled the scent of spilled human blood. The sounds of battle grew louder and more desperate, but no one could break through them. Stiles swallowed hard, realizing he was alone with an angry, armed kitsune. An attempt to stand up or push the katana away was rebuffed on the approach. Stiles clenched his fists in anticipation of the pain. Waiting for his throat to be slit. Derek had better chew his neck off like he'd promised dozens of times! Dying for his sarcasm wasn't nearly as hurtful as saying goodbye to his neck because of someone else's mistake. The blade pressed harder, penetrating deeper, making it hard to breathe. Blood tasted in his mouth, and Stiles was filled with a wild animal terror. He didn't want to die! Not like this! Stiles opened his eyes, watching as Noshiko pressed the katana leisurely and almost thoughtfully, painfully slow to pierce the fragile throat. A sudden rage flared in his chest, dulling the pain and giving him strength. Noshiko's face was so angry that Stiles was afraid of his own anger. Stiles groaned softly and grabbed the katana by the blade with his bare hands, cupping his palms and trying to pull it away from him, which he was surprisingly good at. The katana began to shake, being squeezed from both sides. Noshiko stared at him coldly and angrily, piling her whole body on top of the blade, thrusting the metal deeper and not slowing down any longer. Stiles realized that if he let go of the stinging blade now, he would be strung on the katana like a butterfly on a needle. His eyes darkened with the pain in his hands and a deafening rage. He could be killed for nothing! Because of some stupidity! He could die on this bloody dusty floor and never see his father again! He didn't know where his strength came from, but Stiles threw his weapon away with a powerful jerk, immediately grabbing his aching neck with his aching hands. The blood dripping from his deeply cut palms and throat pierced by the sharp katana had already formed a small puddle on the floor and soaked his favorite Batman T-shirt and jeans. A wheeze escaped his mouth, but Stiles forced himself to stand, keeping his eyes on Noshiko, who was in no hurry to attack again. The agony spilling over his body made it hard to think. Stiles was sure he'd cut his hands to the bone. He would obviously need stitches. Stiles raised his head, his eyes blurring as he focused on Noshiko. - You're not healing. - She looked at his red arms and neck. The blood wasn't flowing so much anymore, and Stiles thanked the moon, the gods, and whoever was above, that this crazy woman hadn't somehow magically nicked any major veins or arteries. - And not acting like Nogitsune. - I guess that's because I'm not Nogitsune! - Stiles tried his luck, immediately cringing at the weakness in his voice. But his ability to speak coherently confirmed his hunch that the wound in his neck wasn't as deep as it had seemed at first. At least the vocal cords were intact. Noshiko drew her eyebrows together menacingly and emphasized each word: - Oni never wrong. - She frowned, flicking her hair off her shoulder in a sudden, nervous movement. - But I can see that you're not Nogitsune. - Noshiko looked at him as if trying to find signs of the dark spirit in him. - You're not the one I'm looking for. However, there is a spark in you that my warriors have seen that may attract Nogitsune. Like I said, you're quite his type. Stiles opened his mouth, but immediately forgot what he wanted to say. Anger overwhelmed him from the inside out. He was very likely to become a corpse today, and Noshiko hadn't even thought to apologize. She looked at him with a distasteful stare and curved her lips in a squeamish manner, but didn't take her eyes off him, despite her obvious disdain, and continued to regard him with morbid interest. - Get out, - Derek growled, and Noshiko calmly shifted her gaze to him. - If the person you're looking for isn't here, leave. She bowed her head in agreement and silently headed for the exit. Kitsune stopped abruptly at the door and turned around, glaring at Stiles, who was sitting up straighter. - Nogitsune will want to see you, boy. I'm sure it will. Even I can sense something around you. He'll be drawn to you like a magnet. He may offer you cooperation, he may threaten or seduce you. But if you want to live, you have to nullify his attempts. He likes to wreak havoc and make evil jokes. He is experienced and very old. He will circle you and feed off the pain he causes you. - She gave him one last serious look and turned away. - If he contacts you, let me know immediately. Otherwise I'll nip the problem in the bud without hesitation, okay? - Did you just call me a problem? That's not nice of you, - Stiles scolded, holding back his boiling anger. He promised himself that he wouldn't say anything to her on principle. There was a reason he'd hated that woman at first sight. - I recognize the irony of the fox. You're like him. - With those words, she finally left, leaving the room in a tense silence. Their contempt seems to be mutual. Judging by the tone with which she said the last sentence. Scott continued to pull the pain out of him, but Stiles gently took his hand away from him and looked around confused. Everyone was looking at him. Some skeptically, some extremely attentive, some concerned. Some of them seemed to be trying to see the weak, thin, harmless Stiles as a creature who liked to wage war and wreak havoc for fun. Judging by the looks on their faces, not many succeeded. Lydia, who had awakened in the midst of the drama, flung her hair back over her shoulder and raised her eyebrows gracefully. - Who did she think she was? A terribly rude person. - That's right. I can't believe she hasn't even apologized for almost killing me, - Stiles said, trying to lighten the mood. Scott let out a suppressed laugh and clapped him on the shoulder, mumbling something about bandages and disinfecting and stitches. The tension hanging in the air dissipated. And no one mentioned what Noshiko had said. Just as no one noticed the fly lurking behind the massive paperweight on the lacquered coffee table.