Chapter Text
1943
It had been a long time since it had been summoned.
As it hovered in the air above the limp, bloody form of the one who had summoned it – a thunder kitsune, if it was not mistaken – the nogitsune relished in the chaos that thrummed around it. In this form, it was purely spirit, and whilst it couldn’t interact as well as in its physical forms, there were benefits – such as being able to take on another’s body. It could sense the chaos and pain that echoed throughout the ether, trace the streams to where it was strongest – and soon, it would be able to cause even more pain.
The other fox had summoned it, called out in her pain and rage for kitsunetsuki – for revenge – and the nogitsune would grant her wish. The only question was, did it take the offered form for the thunder fox before it, or did it play a trick and take the kitsune’s dead lover? On the one hand, it did enjoy its tricks – and it would still be in the spirit of the pact the kitsune had called for. On the other, whilst it was capable of moving about in a dead body, a live one was certainly easier…
In the end, it wasn’t out of anything like sympathy that made the nogitsune choose the thunder kitsune. It was a simple matter of taste – after it had fulfilled the pact, it would have the host’s body to act in this world with, and it was fonder of the chaos to be caused with a beautiful woman’s body, then the terror of a burned and dead man’s. Smiling to itself, the spirit reached out, and took what was offered.
~~~
“These jokes are stupid.”
Standing, the nogitsune breathed in deep. It had been a while since it had had lungs.
“They’re not jokes idiot, they’re riddles. My girl back home loves them.”
The nogitsune smiled. It was rather fond of riddles too.
“What has a neck, but no head?”
“Your mother.”
“No, you idiot, a bott– what the hell is that?”
The two guards that were unloading the bodies turned as the saw the nogitsune standing there in Noshiko’s bloodstained body.
Relishing their shock and fear and disbelief, the nogitsune started towards them, movements slightly stiff and awkward for a moment, before settling as it got used to all the vagaries of being in a body again.
It was interrupted briefly by the shorter, riddle asking guard getting out his gun and firing at it, the force of the bullet forcing it back slightly.
As it got closer and closer to the blond, he shot more and more frantically, until the nogitsune, fed up, lifted him by the neck with one hand, and with the other used his own gun to shoot him several times, before slowly pacing towards where the other, darkhaired guard was frantically trying to start the truck.
“What has a neck, but no head?” it asked, before twisting the guards head around so his neck broke with a snap – then twisting it again, so hard his head came off completely. Looking down at the head, the nogitsune contemplated the horrified expression currently frozen on the guards face, relishing the last echoes of fear and pain.
“You, apparently.” It answered its own riddle, before tossing the head aside, and moving to the empty truck. The Nogitsune sat in the driver’s seat, taking a short moment to loosen the pins holding its host’s hair in the uncomfortable hairstyle, and another to grasp a jacket the smelt of gunpowder and photographs.
Rhys…came the pained whisper of its host.
Putting the jacket on, the Nogitsune shook its hair out over its shoulders. Much better. It couldn’t stand being restrained, even by such small thing.
As it drove back to the internment camp, the Nogitsune listened to the whispers of its host.
All of them…we’ll kill all of them, Rhys…the doctor, the guards – they won’t get away with what they did to you. We’re going to kill them all!
The Nogitsune smiled to itself. Its host may have lived almost as long as it had, but it had clearly not learned some of the lessons burned into the nogitsune’s soul – like to be careful when making deals.
The thunder kitsune had made a pact with the Nogitsune – revenge on all those who had resulted in her lovers death, and the Nogitsune would fulfil its pact.
How exactly it would fulfil the pact, and whether that would match up with the kitsune’s expectations…well, that wasn’t the nogitsune’s business, was it?
~~~
The people were running – like rats, desperate to avoid a cat.
The nogitsune dragged the katana that belonged to its host along the wall, sparks flying, as it stalked down the staircase towards its prey, relishing in the horror, fear and betrayal that wafted off them.
It was a good blade. The nogitsune would be keeping it after this was done.
“Noshiko!” cried one of the humans. “What are you…why are you – stop, please stop!”
The nogitsune didn’t.
After so long in the void, the misery and chaos surrounding it were like an all you can eat buffet – the pain of those it was killing, the fear of those it was about to kill, the anguish and guilt and rage of the kitsune it was possessing, forced to watch as her own hands took innocent life…
It was delicious.
Why are you doing this? The thunder kitsune – what had that one human called it again? Oh yes, Noshiko – cried.
“I’m doing what you asked, Noshiko,” it purred, swiftly removing the blood from its sword. “I’m killing those who killed your lover – the doctor, who sold the medicine, the guards, who helped him, the people who rioted, and…”
It spun, swiftly block the claws that were coming towards its throat, smiling viciously at the wolf before it. “And the wolf, who lost her temper over a scratch, and set an innocent man on fire for it.”
The wolf flinched slightly at that, and the nogitsune took advantage, pressing back against the other creature. The wolf might have supernatural strength, but so did the nogitsune – and a sword was always better then claws.
Setting both hands on the hilt, the nogitsune pushed back, the wolf stumbling back, and in an instinctual movement for balance, threw her arms slightly wide.
It was a small opening, and only brief – but the nogitsune had lived a thousand years, when most of its kind barely lived past a hundred.
It took the opening, thrusting the sword into the werewolf’s sternum, and pushing her back until she was against the wall, the katana impaling her keeping her pinned there.
Stepping back, the Nogitsune admired the image. Satomi was attempting to pull the sword out, eyes glowing yellow. “Now now, we can’t have that,” the nogitsune tutted, before smiling viciously, and grabbing the wolf’s hands, slowly bending them away from the katana’s hilt – and continuing, until finally both her arms dislocated with a crack.
Satomi howled, Noshiko screamed silently, and the nogitsune smiled.
Leaning in closer to the captured werewolf, the nogitsune cocked its borrowed head, waterfall of dark hair falling over one shoulder. “Now, what to do with you.” It mused gleefully.
“I could test your healing – peal your skin off piece by piece, see how well it grows back. Or cut bits off – werewolves can’t regrow limbs, now can they…?”
Satomi said nothing, glaring at the nogitsune silently. Pouting, it rocked back on its feet.
“What, nothing to say? No ‘you’re never going to get away with this’?”
Finally, Satomi spoke. “I have nothing to say to you, yako – I have something to say to Noshiko. I know she’s still there – I know she can hear me.”
The nogitsune tilted its head, curious.
“I’m sorry. I lost my temper – lost control – and a good man died from it.”
The nogitsune felt Noshiko flinch, inside it. Rhys…
“There is no excuse for what I did, and I except this as my rightful punishment – but Noshiko, I don’t blame you.”
Inside the nogitsune, Noshiko gave the equivalent of raising her head.
“I’m sorry you were put into such a position, that you summoned this thing – and I forgive you.”
Satomi…murmured Noshiko, as the nogitsune narrowed its eyes. This wasn’t what it wanted – there was no chaos here, no strife or misery or pain. It had been enjoying Noshiko’s, pain and guilt. Forgiveness…it would have none of it.
So it smiled, teeth sharp. “That’s very touching, truly. It’s also given me an idea! I know exactly what to do with you…”
It held up one of its hand – a hand with ghostly white fire curling around it.
“You’ll have to forgive me if it doesn’t take three days for you to die – I haven’t been able to summon it for a while, so I’m a bit out of practice.”
Satomi said nothing, merely meeting the nogitsune’s eyes with her own, still bright yellow ones.
Eyes narrowing, the nogitsune stepped closer. The wolf might be stoic now, but no one is stoic when they’re burning to death.
Lifting the hand with the fire, the nogitsune was contemplating where to start when Noshiko spoke.
I would make a pact with you, cousin.
The nogitsune hesitated. “You have already made a pact with me – your body for revenge. I am fulfilling it.”
I would make a new pact, one that would eclipse the old.
The nogitsune felt, despite itself, curious, and backed away slightly from the imprisoned woman stuck to the wall.
“What could you possibly offer me?”
900 years of living. Of loving, and hating, of sorrow and joy – I’m pretty sure that’s enough to fill even you up, even if only for an instant.
The nogitsune took a deep breath. What Noshiko was offering – was essentially her soul. All her memories, her emotions – for a being that fed of what others felt, it was a feast the likes of which it had never known. But it meant Noshiko would essentially be dead – even if the nogitsune ever felt like leaving her body, she wouldn’t be able to reclaim it. An offer like that – there had to be a catch.
“In exchange for what?”
The life of Satomi – and any other survivors, no matter their role in the death of Rhys. You leave here, and cause your chaos elsewhere.
The nogitsune thought about it for a moment – but what Noshiko was offering was too good, even at the cost of Satomi’s pain. It stepped back, pulling the katana out of the wolf, ignoring how she cried out in pain.
“I accept.”
Very well – you have my permission, cousin. Eat your fill.
And the nogitsune did.
~~~~
1995
It had been a while since the nogitsune had been back here. Beacon Hills…the town was fittingly named. After accepting Noshiko’s pact, the Nogitsune had left Beacon Hills, enjoying the chance to cause chaos, to feed at will, to interact with the world, rather than the void – it had had fun.
It had had too much fun. Somehow, someone had realised what it was, and summoned Oni. And while it was certainly capable of dealing with a few of the little fireflies, there were several of them, each stronger then the last.
It needed to hide – hide so well that the Oni themselves wouldn’t be able to sniff it out, and whoever had discovered it thought the Oni had done their job, and killed it.
Luckily for the nogitsune, Beacon Hills was still a beacon – though some idiot had cut down the nemeton, there was still enough power echoing through the lay-lines that its presence was hidden enough for now. Not long enough to hide from the Oni and their master, but just long enough that it could find a better, longer-lasting, way to hide.
The nemeton was useful in another way, as well. Whilst the tree itself had been chopped down, the roots remained – and there was a basement around them. With some wards, to hide from sight and sound and smell, and to turn the unwary mind away, it would be a good hiding place for the nogitsune’s sword and Noshiko’s tails, until the nogitsune decided to come back for them.
Having set up those very wards, the nogitsune settled it’s body against the wall, with its katana placed lengthwise by its side, and the small chest where it kept the nine kaiken that were the form Noshiko’s tails took on its lap. It would miss this body – it had been able to cause so much chaos with it…
But, needs must.
Abandoning its host, the nogitsune left Noshiko’s mouth in the form of a fly, and, after pausing to check one last time that its wards were working, left the small basement in search of a new host.
Having already decided exactly how it was going to hide for the next several years, the nogitsune headed off in the direction of the nearest hospital.
Or rather, the nearest hospital’s maternity ward.