Legacy's Wake

Temoshí and the girls were allowed to stay the night in Dr. Hugo's mansion, ensuring they could remain close to Chiaki as she recovered. The doctor had generously provided them with a room, along with all the essentials they might need. Though the night sky was dark and heavy with clouds, the stars managed to pierce through in scattered clusters, casting faint silvery light over the quiet estate.

While Shanya and Phoebe chose to retire early, exhausted from the day's chaos, Temoshí remained wide awake, stationed near Chiaki's still and resting form. He sat beside her, his eyes tracing her slow, steady breaths, his mind burdened with lingering thoughts. Unbeknownst to him, Stitch had been lurking nearby, watching him from the shadows with silent curiosity, observing every subtle shift in his expression as he spoke in a low, reflective voice.

"I really screwed up today..." he admitted, his tone quiet but firm, filled with self-reproach. "I let my emotions take over. Everything happened so fast, and I didn't even have a second to think, let alone react the way I should've. If I had just been a little sharper, a little more in control..." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head before continuing. "None of this would've happened. Chiaki wouldn't be lying here, and we wouldn't have had to risk so much to fix my mistakes." He clenched his fists, then slowly let out a breath, forcing himself to relax. His voice softened. "But in the end... I guess all that matters is that we made it through. Everyone's safe, and that's what counts." He shut his eyes for a moment, as if letting the weight of it all settle within him.

From her hidden spot, Stitch's expression wavered as she listened. Something about his words stirred an odd feeling deep inside her—something that pulled at memories she hadn't let surface in a long time. She lingered for a few more moments, hesitating, then quietly turned away, slipping out of the mansion through an open window.

As soon as her feet touched the cool stone pavement outside, she started walking, letting the crisp night air wash over her. Floating just behind her, Mendy drifted along like a small, watchful shadow, following her movements with quiet curiosity. Stitch barely acknowledged it, lost in her own thoughts as she absentmindedly held onto her forearm, her fingers pressing into her sleeve.

"They're really pirates...?" she murmured under her breath, her voice tinged with disbelief. Her gaze drifted downward, watching the dimly lit road stretch out ahead of her. "They actually care this much about their crew?" Her steps slowed as she lifted her head, staring up at the vast night sky. "That doesn't match up at all with what I've always been told..." She exhaled deeply, her voice barely more than a whisper now. "For as long as I can remember, I thought pirates were nothing but ruthless, greedy bastards. The kind who only care about gold and power... nothing else."

As she spoke, her left hand unconsciously reached up, fingers grazing the fabric of her eyepatch. The simple touch sent a sharp pang through her chest, bringing a flood of long-buried memories surging to the surface. Her eye... that was all she could think about whenever she heard the word pirate.

After all, it had been pirates who had done this to her. Pirates who had taken something she could never get back.

But then her thoughts flickered back to Temoshí, to the way he had risked his life for his crew—how he had fought, not for treasure, not for glory, but for the people he cared about. It was so different from everything she had believed. She glanced over her shoulder, catching a glimpse of Dr. Hugo's mansion through the gaps between the trees. Its rooftop peeked over the foliage, its presence a quiet reminder of the people inside.

Her gaze shifted forward once more, her expression unreadable. She continued walking, keeping her pace slow and steady, but her mind was anything but calm.

"I've met plenty of pirates who live for nothing but their own honor and fortune," she mused to herself, "but I've never seen ones who fight like that. Ones who actually show love, loyalty, and respect to the people around them..." She let out a quiet chuckle, though there was no humor in it. "And yet, for some reason, he trusted me—a total stranger. He put his faith in me, in my abilities, in my word, even when he had every reason not to." Her fingers tightened slightly against her sleeve. "I could've used that trust against him. I could've taken advantage of his desperation to get myself out of that mess... but I didn't."

The thought lingered in her mind as she kept moving forward, deeper into the quiet streets. The stars continued to gleam faintly above her, but for the first time in a long while, Stitch found herself questioning everything she thought she knew.

"And before all that..." Stitch muttered as she continued walking, absentmindedly kicking a small pebble down the road, watching as it skipped ahead before vanishing into the darkness. "Chiaki jumped in without hesitation to save me from that guy with the cleavers... And then there was Temoshí—he did the exact same thing for that woman who attacked us while we were already running from the guards." She exhaled, her thoughts swirling with confusion.

"They don't act anything like the pirates I've always heard about," she continued, her voice quieter now. "Everything they've done so far has been the complete opposite of what you'd expect from people like them. And yet... the marines still consider them the enemy?" Her brows furrowed slightly as she lifted her gaze to the starlit sky, searching for answers in its vast expanse.

"They're not bad people... are they?" The words came out softer, as if she was trying to convince herself. "There's no way they could fake something like that—risking their lives just to protect someone else. That wasn't some act of fake heroism, done for show or personal gain." She placed a hand over her chest, gripping her sleeve. "They have... a heart."

But danger still lurked in the shadows, and any hope of fortune remained a distant dream. Unbeknownst to Stitch, another presence loomed above, watching her from the rooftops as she walked beneath the pale glow of the moon.

Just like before, the figure moved swiftly and silently across the rooftops, its motions predatory—like a hunter stalking its prey, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It was relentless, an unseen force creeping ever closer, resembling more of a beast than a person.

Stitch, lost in her thoughts, muttered to herself, "But there's something I can't shake... Every one of those 'silhouettes' that came after me—the man with the cleavers, that phantom, even that woman—they were all focused on me. They didn't care about anyone else, didn't even spare a glance at the others. Why...?" Her voice trailed off as she furrowed her brows, trying to piece together the puzzle forming in her mind.

To be continued...