[It's rather nerve-wracking. She hangs back enough to feel awkward, to stay locked in Sakura's shadow and avoid meeting the woman's eyes. Why did she bother coming? This sort of work pinched at every flaw she has. Terrible with people, awkward, clumsy, cowardly. Someone's going to walk in cut to pieces and she'll have to leave, or she'll mess up the bandaging and leave this woman in worse shape than before.

She's almost nibbling her thumb as she watches Sakura work. Then she remembers she'd just washed up, and clenches her hands to fists instead. The weave of the bandage appears to be simple. Perhaps she can manage it?

"It feels quite all right, dear." The woman smiles warmly at them both. Fukawa gingerly takes the next bandage.]

...Y-you're sure you want to risk yourself?

["It's just a sprain. I'm sure you'll do fine."

Fukawa winces and casts a sour look at Sakura.]

You b-better not make fun of me when I fail miserably. [It was her idea, after all.

No matter. With a sour grunt she makes her start. The hand that holds the foot keeps the grip light, she's too scared to use any kind of force. Round the bandage goes. The pattern is inelegant, not the tight and even criss-cross of Sakura's work. Fukawa swears under her breath.]

God. D-do I have to start over?