The paramedics rushed in, voices brisk and professional, the smell of antiseptic and rain following them.

  “Fifteen-year-old male, fainted twice, regained consciousness briefly,” Mrs. Hartley said quickly, stepping back to give them space.Ethan’s mom just stood there, clutching his backpack, her face pale.

  One of the EMTs — a tall man with calm eyes — knelt beside the cot.“Hey there, buddy, you with me?”

  Ethan flinched at the voice. His fingers instinctively tightened around the small pendant pressed against his chest.

  The other EMT reached to check his vitals. “We’ll need to remove any accessories before—”

  “No!”

  Ethan jerked upright again, breathing sharp, eyes wide with panic.His hands cmped down over the neckce, knuckles white. His voice cracked under the strain.

  “Don’t take it off! Please! Please don’t—!”

  His mom froze mid-step. “Ethan—sweetheart, it’s okay—”

  “It’s not—” His throat burned, the words barely came out. “It’s not okay!”

  The older paramedic lifted both hands slowly. “Alright, no one’s touching it. You hear me? We’ll keep it on.”

  Ethan was trembling — his lips pale, sweat beading at his forehead. Every breath came out short and shaky.

  Alex, still near the corner of the room, whispered, “He looks worse…”

  The EMT nodded toward Mrs. Hartley. “He’s severely dehydrated and showing signs of sleep deprivation. Let’s get him to the ambunce before he crashes again.”

  As they carefully lifted him, Ethan tried to keep his grip on the neckce. His arm dropped weakly, but his fingers stayed hooked around the chain.

  “Easy,” the medic murmured. “We’re just getting you to the ambunce, alright?”

  Ethan tried to nod, but his vision was already fading again — edges blurring, the hallway spinning in pale light.His head fell sideways against the stretcher straps as they guided him through the school doors.

  The st thing he heard was his mom’s shaking voice:

  “We won’t take it off, honey. I promise.”

  The neckce pressed against his chest — pulsing faintly, almost warm — as everything went bck again.

  The hum of the ambunce blurred into a low lulby — wheels thudding rhythmically against the road, oxygen monitor beeping in steady time.

  Ethan’s breathing evened out at st. The paramedics were talking in low voices, but the words dissolved before they reached him. The only thing he could still feel was the pendant against his chest, its faint warmth seeping through his skin like a pulse not his own.

  Then everything slipped sideways.

  A soft breeze brushed his cheek.

  He blinked and found himself standing — barefoot — on cool grass that shimmered like silver in moonlight. A quiet ke rippled nearby, and stars burned above like scattered embers. He looked down and saw slender hands, pale skin, and—

  White hair.Tails.All ten of them, curled around him in a perfect cocoon.

  Eri exhaled, her breath misting in the dream air.Here, the ache in her body was gone. The weight, the exhaustion, the panic — gone.Only stillness remained.

  She sat at the water’s edge, letting her tails float zily in the reflection. The air smelled faintly of rain and cherry blossoms. It was like she’d stumbled into the memory of a pce that never quite existed.

  Her fingers brushed over her neckce — the same one Ethan had refused to let go. But here, in this dream, it was glowing faintly. The glow shimmered up her arm like soft threads of light before fading into her skin.

  “I’m… safe here,” she whispered. The words came out as Eri’s voice — lighter, smoother, almost melodic.

  She y back, tails curling protectively over her stomach, her chest, her legs — a weighted bnket of living warmth. The surface of the ke mirrored her form perfectly: silver eyes half-lidded, her hair spyed out like a halo.

  For the first time in days — maybe weeks — her mind wasn’t racing. She wasn’t drowning in guilt or exhaustion.She just existed.

  Between heartbeats.Between selves.