Legacy's Wake

Stitch and Shanya pushed forward through the storm, their pace relentless as they neared their destination. The wind howled around them, whipping rain against their faces as lightning flashed in the distance. Every step mattered now—just a little further, and they could finally get Chiaki the medical attention she desperately needed.

"How much longer, damn it?" Shanya huffed, adjusting her grip on Chiaki. The weight of the injured girl, combined with the urgency of their mission, was wearing her down. Her breath came in sharp gasps, her arms shaking from strain. "We've gotta get her to a doctor now. I don't know if she can hold on much longer, Stitch!" Her voice carried both frustration and desperation, the burden evident not just in her trembling limbs but in the tightness of her expression.

Despite the urgency, Stitch remained oddly silent. Her feet still carried her forward, but something was off. Her mind wasn't fully present—it was stuck on something else. The words Temoshí had spoken to her earlier echoed in her thoughts, gnawing at her like an itch she couldn't scratch.

Noticing the shift in her, Shanya glanced over. "Oi, Stitch! What's wrong with you? You're spacing out at a time like this?"

Stitch's lips pressed into a thin line, her brows furrowed as she kept running. "It's nothing," she muttered.

"Like hell it's nothing," Shanya shot back. "You're running like a damn ghost. What's got you thinking so hard?"

A beat of silence passed before Stitch finally spoke. "It's just… Temoshí. The way he trusts me. I don't get it."

Shanya frowned, briefly shifting Chiaki's weight to get a better grip. "What about it?"

"He barely knows me," Stitch said, frustration creeping into her voice. "Yet he put me in charge of something this important. Why? What did I do to earn that trust? It doesn't make sense."

Shanya scoffed, kicking off a slick rock in their path. "Does it have to make sense? Some people just trust their gut."

"But why me?" Stitch pressed. "He's got his whole crew—people he's fought with, people he knows. And yet, here I am, running through a damn storm on his orders like I've been part of this for years."

Shanya exhaled sharply, narrowing her eyes as she ran. "You're thinkin' about this too much. If you really want an answer, maybe it's 'cause he saw somethin' in you."

Stitch shook her head. "That's the thing—I don't even know what he sees. I haven't done anything to prove myself. It's like he decided the moment we met that I was someone worth trusting. Who does that?"

Shanya was quiet for a moment before speaking. "Look, I ain't gonna pretend to know what goes on in that guy's head. But if he trusts you, maybe you should stop questioning it and start trusting yourself."

Stitch clenched her jaw. That was the part that got under her skin the most—trusting herself. She'd spent years making decisions based on survival, not faith. Now, out of nowhere, she was expected to believe in herself just because someone else did? It wasn't that simple.

"Tch," Stitch clicked her tongue, her gaze fixed ahead. "You make it sound easy."

Shanya snorted. "It ain't. But neither is wasting your energy doubtin' yourself when we've got a life on the line." She adjusted Chiaki again, her voice turning sharper. "You feel that? The weight of this girl in my arms? The fact that we're sprinting through a storm just to give her a damn chance at seeing tomorrow? That's what matters right now. Not your crisis over some pirate captain's trust."

Stitch gritted her teeth. She knew Shanya was right, but the feeling wouldn't shake off so easily. Still, right now, she had a job to do.

Her legs moved faster, her hesitation pushed aside—at least for now.

Stitch fell into silence again, her mind still circling around the same question. No matter how she looked at it, she couldn't understand why Temoshí had placed so much trust in her. It wasn't something she was used to—being relied on like this, especially by someone who barely knew her.

Shanya, noticing the shift in her expression, sighed but didn't push further. Instead, she focused on the road ahead, eyes scanning through the rain. "We're almost there," she said, adjusting her grip on Chiaki. "Just a few more blocks, and we'll reach Hugo."

Stitch nodded, shaking off her thoughts. "Hugo's the best shot we have. If anyone can keep Chiaki from slipping away, it's him."

Shanya shot her a quick glance. "You sound pretty sure about that."

"I am sure," Stitch said firmly. "Hugo isn't just some street doc patching up bruises and cuts. He used to work in a top-tier medical facility before things went south. Something happened—never pried into it—but now he's here, helping whoever needs it, no questions asked. Works with limited supplies but gets the job done better than most so-called professionals."

Shanya adjusted Chiaki in her arms, her grip steady. "Sounds like a miracle worker."

"He might as well be," Stitch replied. "I've seen him fix up people who should've been dead. Broken bones, internal injuries, poisonings—you name it. He doesn't ask for much, just does what needs to be done." She glanced at Shanya. "And right now, we need him."

Shanya gave a small smirk. "Then let's just hope he's ready for this."

"He's always ready," Stitch said, picking up the pace.

With that, they pushed forward, the rain still pounding down, but hope flickering in the distance.

As they pushed forward through the rain, Shanya exhaled sharply, her breath visible in the cold air. The weight of Chiaki in her arms wasn't the problem—it was the uncertainty. They were racing against time, and every second counted.

"How close are we now?" she asked, shifting her grip slightly.

"Just a couple more turns," Stitch replied, her tone steady. "We'll be there soon."

Shanya glanced at her. "You trust this guy a lot. How do you even know him?"

Stitch was quiet for a moment, eyes fixed ahead. Then, she sighed. "Because he's the one who tried to fix my eye."

Shanya blinked. "Wait... Hugo was the doctor who treated you?"

"Yeah," Stitch admitted. "Back when it happened, I was barely hanging on. My face was a mess, and my eye..." She trailed off for a second, pressing forward before continuing. "Hugo did everything he could. He managed to save me, but the damage was too deep. He told me straight up—there was no fixing what had already been lost. No fancy surgery, no miracle cure."

Shanya furrowed her brows. "And you still trust him after that?"

Stitch nodded. "Of course I do. Because he didn't lie to me. He didn't make false promises or give me false hope. He did his best, and that's more than I can say for most people."

Shanya stayed quiet for a moment before saying, "I get it. Better an honest doctor than one who pretends to be a god."

"Exactly," Stitch muttered. "And trust me, if anyone has a shot at keeping Chiaki alive, it's him."

Shanya exhaled, shaking her head slightly. "Guess that means I better run faster, huh?"

Stitch smirked faintly, picking up her pace. "Wouldn't hurt."

With renewed urgency, they pressed on, the storm raging around them as they raced toward their only hope.

The two arrived at a large residence on the outskirts of Cascade Cradle's forest. The building stood alone, surrounded by dense trees, its grand design resembling more of a mansion than a medical clinic. The towering structure dominated the area, its presence an odd contrast to the wilderness around it.

Stitch pointed toward the estate, momentarily pushing aside thoughts of the past. "That's the place. He lives here!" she said, sprinting up to the entrance gate. Without hesitation, she slammed her finger onto the doorbell, pressing it repeatedly in growing impatience.

Silence.

"Come on… come on… pick up," she muttered, tapping the button again and again. But the longer the silence stretched, the more anxious she became. Frustration mounting, she tried another approach. "Dr. Hugo! Open up the gate! It's me, Stitch! Please!" Her voice carried across the rain-soaked trees, cutting through the relentless storm.

Inside the mansion, Hugo was carefully balancing a stack of books in his arms when a familiar voice from outside caught his attention. He paused, brows furrowing as he turned toward the large window overlooking the entrance. Peering through the glass, his eyes widened in surprise.

"Stitch?" he murmured, recognition dawning instantly. "If she's here, that means she needs my help."

Without wasting another second, he dropped the books onto a nearby table, grabbed his jacket, and adjusted his glasses before making his way toward the entrance. As he stepped outside, he could already hear the frantic voices of Stitch and someone else echoing through the storm.

Hugo hurried to the gate, undoing the heavy locks with practiced ease before pulling it open. The iron creaked as it swung wide, revealing Stitch and Shanya standing drenched in the storm, their breaths ragged from the frantic sprint. In Shanya's arms, Chiaki lay still, her body pale and motionless.

Stitch wasted no time. "Hugo, we don't have time to talk—Chiaki needs help, now!" Her voice was sharp with urgency as she gestured toward the unconscious girl.

Hugo's sharp eyes flicked over Chiaki's limp form, taking in her shallow breaths and the feverish sheen on her skin. Without hesitation, he stepped aside and motioned them in. "Get inside, quickly," he said, his voice steady despite the obvious tension in the air.

The three of them rushed through the open gate, Hugo securing it behind them before leading the way up the steps to the front door. As soon as they stepped inside, the warmth of the mansion's interior enveloped them, a stark contrast to the cold rain outside. The space was lined with bookshelves, medical supplies neatly organized along the walls, and a large wooden desk covered in notes and anatomical diagrams.

"Lay her on the couch," Hugo instructed, already rolling up his sleeves as he moved toward a cabinet filled with medical tools. "What happened to her?"

Stitch, still catching her breath, wasted no time explaining. "One of the royal guards got to her," she said, her voice tight with frustration. "They sliced her neck open—deep enough that she should've bled out. I didn't know exactly how much time she had left, so I acted fast." She reached into her pouch, pulling out a thin, silver needle. "I used this on her. It's a specialized acupuncture needle meant to delay the body's natural response to fatal trauma. Without it, her senses would have registered the damage, and she would've already slipped past the point of no return."

Hugo's eyes narrowed as he took in Stitch's explanation, moving swiftly to examine the wound on Chiaki's neck. "That's a dangerous technique," he muttered, carefully pressing around the deep gash. "It's effective, but temporary. If we don't treat the root cause soon, her body will catch up with the pain—and the damage."

"I know," Stitch admitted, her fists clenched. "But it was the only way to keep her alive long enough to get here."

Shanya, still gripping her soaked sleeves, spoke up. "We don't know why the royal guard targeted her… one second she was fine, then suddenly, she collapsed. There wasn't time to figure it out, we just knew we had to bring her to you."

Hugo nodded, his expression grave as he kneeled beside Chiaki, carefully inspecting the severity of the injury. "Then we can't waste another second," he said firmly. "Whatever's keeping her alive right now won't last forever."

Without another word, he got to work.

To be continued...