GIANCARLO
The blood stops flowing from Akiko's old wounds as suddenly as it began. One moment, crimson soaks through bandages faster than we can replace them. The next, her skin seals itself with efficiency that makes Dr. Tanaka step back in surprise.
"Fascinating." She adjusts monitors that track vital signs no human hospital would recognize. "Her body's accepting the cleansing. Look here—" She points to readouts showing cellular activity. "The tissue isn't just healing. It's rebuilding from the genetic level up."
I wipe blood from Akiko's face with hands that won't stop shaking. Through the bond, her presence feels stronger but still distant, like hearing her voice through heavy doors. "Is that good?"
"It means her body wants to survive. That's always good." Dr. Tanaka moves with the
