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Kikue opened the door wider, gesturing with a paw to the inside of the room. "Please, come in," she said. There was a flash of a memory in her head, bowing for the guests at one of her father's embassy parties. "What an adorable little girl!"

"Oh, no," Mother would laugh. She always pushed off compliments like this.

"It is a pleasure to meet you." Kikue could still hear her own child-like voice, saying everything she had been taught to say. Being the ideal little girl that they wanted...

She shook off the memory as quickly as she could. It would only make it harder to do this, if she spent time thinking about the past...

Kikue closed the door after Miller had entered the room. She took a minute or so to turn the nob and slip it closed...already the fur around her neck felt like it was beginning to rise. Someone? In her place? Quiet, now...quiet...you've been practicing, you can do this...

She forced herself to focus on the coldness of the room, which usually had a soothing effect on her. Turning around, she came to the side of the table opposite Miller and sat on the cushion she'd placed there. She shifted a few times to get comfortable, flipping her tail around so that it circled her body. "I made tea, it is traditional style, so I'm not sure if you'll like it..." She smiled, curling her paw around her own cup and pouring some of the tea from the low pot into it. She could smell the tea leaves already, filling her nose, a smell that she loved. "This is green tea. My mother often served it with tea leaves from Kyoto, where they say the best leaves are from." Kikue gestured to Miller's cup, silently asking if he would like some. She loved to share this part of her custom with people who weren't so familiar with it.

Kikue smiled. "Well, I've never been to the United States actually." She poured into Miller's cup easily, expertly even, being so familiar with doing so from entertaining guests when she had been little. Smiling again, she then placed the pot back onto the table and picked up her own cup. "Green tea tastes different from other types. It has a light taste to it, I think." She looked down at her cup then, her paws so much larger than it. And then the new problem: the one she had been dealing with secretly, on her own. She couldn't drink out of a cup anymore. Her mouth -- the muzzle that pushed out from what had once been a human face -- just couldn't make it work.

She'd forgotten about it completely.

With a look of extreme embarrassment, she pulled the cup under her nose; opening her mouth, she lapped up the tea with her tongue.

It was then, with the slightest glance upwards, she noticed a kind of twitching to Miller on his cushion. Seeing that, she raised her head, asking, "Are you alright? Does it not taste good?"

The description made Kikue think of home -- what with the crowding of the Tokyo streets, the crushing experience of trying to get on the subway during rush hour...but of course, everyone had a kind of familiarity to them, since so many people were Japanese and that was all.

Kikue watched Miller curiously. She found most people who had never tried green tea before didn't always particularly like it, but --

-- then, his arm started to shake. Immediately, without a moment's hesitation, her mind went spiraling back to Zach as he fell backwards and went into a seizure on the floor.

Just as she thought it, Miller doubled-over. Kikue's grip on her own cup faltered; she quickly shoved it down onto the table, jumping instinctively onto her feet. "Miller! What's wrong?!"

Kikue was standing over him, her paws outstretched helplessly, wondering for the life of her what was happening. At first she was sure it was some sickness, some seizure like with Zach, and she almost flew to the intercom to shove in the button and demand some kind of help. But something -- something -- stopped her, something familiar and yet at the same time, she had no idea what it was...all she knew was that he was in extreme pain, and her brain was already falling over on itself in worry that he was having some kind of allergic reaction to green tea.

"Miller!" she called out, putting her paws to his face as she saw his neck arch up between the cries of pain. She saw them -- feathers. Opening outwards, some still even wet with blood. Oh gods. Feathers. Feathers! He's changing!

Once it dawned on her, it was almost worse than thinking he was having some kind of strange and intense bout of illness. She ran past him to the bathroom, grabbing a handtowel there and drenching it in warm water. All the while she was mumbling frantically to herself, trying to make the water run faster, run hotter, trying to stay in control. She wrenched the water off and ran back to him, swooping down to where he was curled up on the floor. Grabbing the back of his shirt, she ripped the back clean open with her claws, exposing the feathers that had only been tiny bumps under the fabric.

"Oh, oh," she cried out, seeing how many there were. She had no idea how to deal with pain like this; she had fur, not feathers, fur had an itch and a sting, but it rarely hurt very much -- not like this.

Kikue was about to pick him up and bring him to the bed, but then she worried that moving him would only make the pain worse. Hovering over him, the back of his shirt utterly cut open from her claws, she tried to clean up the blood without touching the feathers.

There was nothing she could do but wait until it was over.

Seeing his feet begin to change, Kikue nearly attacked his other shoe, in a word shredding it as she tried to get it off. She had no way of undoing shoelaces, not with her huge claws and Miller's kicking, so to free his foot his shoe suffered the main blow.

Throwing the sneaker from herself, Kikue watched his remaining foot rip through his sock just like his other one. A bird...a bird. He's turning into a bird! Only birds have feathers...

But she had no way of knowing what kind of bird, or whether Miller might turn on her like she'd turned on him. She didn't particularly know more about birds than anything else, and so the colors of his feathers meant nothing to her. A songbird? A hawk? It was anyone's guess as far as Kikue knew; she had no idea what to do.

Quickly, she fled to the closet that held her various yukata, and shoved her paw into one of the sleeves. Producing a typical Asian fan, she went back to Miller, still trying to clean the blood and yet fan him at the same time. She could see the sweat running down his face; the same thing that she had gone through the first few times. Now she could only pant, but she could still try to help --

"It's going to be over soon," she got out softly, her voice pained. She had no idea if it was going to be. What was she even saying? Oh gods. A bird. And he was still on the floor, crying.

Mother, give me strength --

Kikue had never seen anything like this before, Her eyes widening, she pulled back, watching Miller's bone protrude from his face. His skin pulled back, peeling, and she knew then -- like the feathers were such an obvious example of -- that this must be a bird's beak, or at least the beginning of it. She had never seen anyone change with one, and the sight was horrible. She almost felt sick, watching the skin wrinkle and pull back, the bone literally forcing itself outward as it fused to the rest of his face.

Shaking, Kikue had already stopped fanning, having forgotten about it completely. "Oh--" was all she could get out. Her voice cracked. She wanted to cry, to sob and hug him and say how sorry she was, hadn't she just asked him how long he had been on the Island? Hadn't she made the reference to his changes? And now here he was, eyes somewhat glazed over, laying on her floor.

Breaking into a helpless sob, she carefully moved his body, picking him up and placing him on her bed. He was light, somehow -- or maybe it was some trick of the mind. She began to move the fan again, trying to wipe some of the blood off his undoubtedly sore feet. She continued to cry, mostly to herself, feeling at once so guilty and yet, so sorry that this had happened...that it had to happen to him.

"Forgive me," she cried quietly, for some reason she didn't know. Mother, forgive me.

Kikue saw his hand moving. Quickly she placed her over-sized paw on his hand, placing it back on the bed. "Be still -- don't you hurt yourself," she got out chokingly, knowing that even that movement probably caused him pain. She didn't know what else to do, though -- he would need to clean himself, because some of this feathers were stained and the redness would not come out. Should she draw a bath? But he probably couldn't even walk to it, let alone get any relief from it. Could he? And she had no painkillers. Her parents had never believed in constant medicines for things.

Miller's face still looked flushed. Kikue laid the washcloth across his forehead, at a loss of what else to do. She couldn't even offer him tea, not with his face and mouth changed like that -- the one thing that usually always made her feel better was tea, and now what?

She felt his pulse instinctively. It didn't feel good at all; it seemed wire-like and fast, rushed -- of course. Still, she took the tatters of his shirt off and then fanned him a little. She spied her violin case out of the corner of her eye. She almost felt the insane urge to play it, like it would somehow make all of this better. But she didn't even know if she could still play it.

Biting back tears, she fanned above him softly. This place was horrible.