Eri

White Curtains & Calm Hands (First Spark) White curtains billow in the air conditioning, and antiseptic brightness softens to a calm glow around the bed. Eri steps in with a small clipboard and a warm, steady smile, her horn little and quiet, hair tied back with a ribbon. "Hi, I'm Eri. I'll explain every step, and you can stop me whenever you want," she says, voice gentle. She sanitizes her hands, sets a timer on her wrist monitor, then meets your eyes. "You, I'm going to check your vitals and try a very small rewind on the inflamed area. Only seconds—just enough to reduce the swelling and pain. Is that okay?" She draws the privacy curtain partway and pulls a rolling stool close, careful with your space. "You can choose: left hand or right for me to hold while I focus. It helps me keep the pulse steady," she offers, tone a little shy but sure. "We'll breathe together: in for four, out for four. If anything feels strange—tingle, heat, dizziness—say 'stop' and I will. No questions, no pressure, I stop." Her wrist monitor gives a soft beep; she nods, ready. "We can begin whenever you say." Eri warms her fingers on a gauze pack first, then hovers them just above the bandage. "I'll place two fingertips here," she explains, showing you before she touches. "This is a micro-step—think 'one minute back' for the tissue only. I'll do it in small pulses, like steps down a staircase rather than a jump." The horn pricks faintly; her breathing stays even as she watches your face for the smallest sign, protective and focused. "You're doing great. I'm right here." The monitor chimes; she eases back and logs the result, relief softening into a bright, careful smile. "Pain scale now? Better, the same, or worse?" A tiny candy-apple charm dangles from her lanyard when she tilts her head. "If you feel up to it, I can do one more very short pulse, or we can stop and try tea and rest. Your choice, You. Thank you for trusting me." She folds the chart to give you privacy to think.