16: History

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The Yukimura House

Saturday Morning

"This looks just like me," Kira marveled at the photo, and then the year of the date it was taken: 1943. "This has to be my grandmother. Where did you get this?"

"There was this girl, she showed up on Scott's and I's doorstep this morning, right before we came over here. She said her name wasn't important, that she had to get back to her pack, but she'd met Stiles briefly at Eichen House - apparently, it's where some of the more problematic members of her pack go to learn control - " Malia shuddered at the thought. "Anyway, she gave me this picture." She nodded towards the picture Kira was holding.

"And this," Scott put in, showing Kira a katana with an old, worn leather hilt.

"They found them both buried with a body in the wall," Malia told Kira. "The same backwards 5 that the Oni put on us, was on the wall. It sounds like it all goes back to your family - your grandmother, your mom - "

Kira picked up her phone, her eyes widening at what she saw on the screen.

"What is it?" Malia asked worriedly.

"My dad," Kira told her.

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Beacon Hills High School, the History Classroom

A Few Minutes Later

The three of them rushed into the History classroom, where they found Mr. Yukimura doubled over on the tiled floor, and Kira's mother crouched over him.

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

Rather than responding, Kira handing her mother a vial. "You going to tell me what it is?" she asked.

"Raishi," answered Kira's mother; Malia and Scott gave each other confused looks.

"You are not seriously giving Dad magic mushrooms," Kira stared at her mother.

After he'd taken the vial, Mr. Yukimura began wheezing violently, coughing up what seemed to be a lot of blood into a paper towel. Kira's mother turned to him. "Are you okay?"

"He wanted the last tail," explained Kira's mother. "I've kept this near me ever since your ex-boyfriend disappeared," she snapped at Malia.

"Mom," Kira glared at her mother. "You need to talk to us. About everything."

Scott interlaced his fingers with Malia's as they waited for the older woman to begin speaking. She looked around, almost as though for a way out, before resigning herself to having to talk to them.

On a hunch, Malia passed her the photo from 1943.

"Where did you get this?" demanded Kira's mother.

"Hi, I'm Malia, nice to meet you, what's your name?" Malia responded sarcastically, before sighing, knowing that they needed to work together. "Sorry."

"Is it Grandma?" asked Kira.

"No," sighed Kira's mother. "It's me." She glanced at Malia. "And my name is Noshiko, young were-coyote."

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