The night dragged on, yet Temoshí's mind refused to quiet. Sleep remained elusive, his thoughts spinning in endless circles of worry. How could he possibly rest when some of his closest allies were out there, their whereabouts unknown and their actions shrouded in uncertainty?
"Why are we just sitting here in this household?" he muttered under his breath, his frustration evident as he clenched his teeth. He paced back and forth, occasionally glancing at the moonlight filtering through the window. "We should be out there helping Yumiko… or finding Aurora." His voice wavered, frustration giving way to guilt and simmering anger over his own inaction.
The knowledge that marine officers lingered nearby, likely planning their next move, only fueled his unease. Though his demeanor remained calm and collected on the surface, thoughts of Yumiko and Aurora gnawed at him, breaking through the mask he wore so well.
"Damn it." Temoshí suddenly stopped in his tracks, his fists tightening. "I can't just sit here. I have to do something. I have to find one of them."
With renewed determination, he strode toward the wardrobe in his room and yanked it open, revealing a dark cloak uniform complete with a scarf and hood. He pulled it out, inspecting the worn fabric carefully. This might work, he thought. It wasn't in the best condition, but it would help him move unnoticed.
A flicker of azure fire engulfed his body, roaring to life before exploding outward in a shower of shimmering embers. When the flames subsided, his masculine form had shifted, replaced by that of a young woman. Without hesitation, she turned to a duffel bag resting nearby and began rummaging through it with her now slender arms.
"This might be the dumbest idea I've ever had… but it'll have to do," she murmured, pulling out a pair of earrings she'd picked up at Harventona Park. She carefully fastened them to her ears before tying her long, curly hair into a fluffy ponytail—just as Yumiko had once shown her.
Satisfied, she slipped into the cloak uniform, adjusting the scarf snugly around her neck and pulling the hood over her head. She stepped toward the mirror, examining her reflection with a critical eye.
"Perfect," she muttered, stretching her new form to ensure the outfit allowed for full movement. She bent forward, stretched her legs, and even raised one high above her head in a wide arc to test her flexibility.
Meanwhile, Chiaki and Shanya, returning to their rooms, were drawn to faint noises coming from Temoshí's quarters. Their curiosity piqued, they exchanged glances before hurrying toward the source of the sound, Chiaki leading the way.
Inside the room, the cloaked figure stood by the open window, her gaze fixed on the quiet front yard below. "Not bad," she mused aloud. "The fabric's a little worn, but it'll do. This should keep my identity under wraps." Without another word, she vaulted out of the window, landing softly on the grass below.
Chiaki, peeking cautiously through the ajar door, caught sight of the figure just as she landed. "Psst, what are you doing?" she whispered urgently, stepping fully into the room with Shanya close behind.
The cloaked Temoshí turned, the hood casting shadows over her altered features. Shanya frowned in confusion while Chiaki crossed her arms, her tone laced with both worry and irritation.
"Seriously, Burnsy," Shanya said, eyeing the cloak with mild disdain. "What's with the dramatic wardrobe change? Sneakin' out like this? What's so important you're bustin' all this effort to go private? And why the ugly clothes?" Her voice was sharp but carried an undertone of genuine concern.
Temoshí hesitated, her gaze flickering between the two of them. The mission she had planned hadn't accounted for this sudden confrontation.
Temoshí's eyes widened dramatically, her expression morphing into exaggerated frustration as she yelled at Shanya, her voice pitched low in a desperate attempt not to alert the rest of the household.
"Why I'm wearing these clothes is none of your damn business! Do you always grill girls about their wardrobe choices? What are you, the fashion police? And for your information, I'm heading out to find Yumiko and Aurora. I'm not just gonna sit around while they're out there possibly going through hell!"
Shanya crossed her arms under her chest, grinning smugly, clearly enjoying the chance to poke fun at her friend.
"Fashion police? Nah. But someone's gotta question that fit," she quipped.
Before Temoshí could fire back, both Shanya and Chiaki vaulted through the open window, landing right in front of her with annoyingly perfect grace. Temoshí stumbled backward in surprise, her hood nearly slipping off as her voice spiked in disbelief.
"What the—?!" she yelped, clutching her chest.
"We're coming with you!" Chiaki announced cheerfully, her grin rivaling Shanya's. "Let's call it a girls' night!"
Temoshí's eye twitched. "I am NOT a—" She paused, glaring at her own form. "Okay, technically I am, but also I'm NOT, damn it! Ugh, fine. But no teasing! I'm like this to keep my identity hidden!" She jabbed a finger at them, visibly vibrating with irritation. An imaginary anger vein practically pulsed above her head.
Chiaki burst into laughter, patting Temoshí's shoulder with mock sympathy. "Your hidden identity, huh? Yeah, sure, totally working. Except, y'know, for the part where everyone knows you can turn into a woman. Your wanted poster makes that real clear."
Temoshí's face turned a deep shade of crimson as her jaw dropped. "THAT DOESN'T MATTER! Who even looks at those posters?! I'm not doing this for fun, you jerks!"
Shanya smirked, leaning in. "Oh, so you don't like wearing cute outfits? Could've fooled me."
"I'LL SET YOU BOTH ON FIRE!" Temoshí bellowed, pointing at them furiously as imaginary flames burst around her feet.
Shanya and Chiaki exchanged a glance, then nodded with mock seriousness. "Got it. Girls' night, with extra fire. Let's roll!" they chimed in unison, giving her a thumbs-up.
Temoshí groaned, dragging a hand down her face. "Why am I cursed with such insufferable crewmates? Fine! But hurry the hell up and try not to embarrass me any more than you already have!"
The two snickered as they trailed behind her, whispering conspiratorially. Temoshí stomped ahead, muttering under her breath. If Yumiko and Aurora were in danger, they'd better be ready—because these two clowns weren't making this mission any easier.
As the three of them headed out, the night air remained undisturbed, and nobody seemed to take notice of their departure. That is, except for Stitch, who had been quietly observing from the front door of the household.
She stood still for a moment, pondering where they might be going. Her curiosity soon gave way to a burst of confidence. Without a second thought, she grabbed a nearby uniform and slipped into it, ensuring it concealed her identity so the others wouldn't spot her right away.
Once fully disguised, she fastened her needles to her belt and quickly prepared to follow. Mendy, her trusty doll, was secured to her back like an odd little backpack, and she hurried out into the night, determined to stay under the radar.
To be continued...