Japan looked on in confusion as South Korea and America sat giggling on a bench under a tree, at the bottom of which was his cat and at the top was his dog. Tama the cat was making an extremely strange yowling sound, almost as if he was trying to bark.

"What the...?"

"Oh, hi!" Korea waved. "We're doing a test."

"On what?"

"Ah, just another little piece of tech that's better than yours," said Korea with a smirk. "Little help from England, borrowed some info from Vatican and Tibet, and it's up and running."

"I really don't like the sound of that combination." Japan looked up, wondering how on earth Pochi had even managed to climb the tree.

Korea ignored him. "I give you... dan-da-da-daaaann..." With a flourish, he produced a metal box covered in switches and blinking lights, with two tiny screens and two antennae. "The Soul Switcher!"

Japan's eyebrows raised slightly, about the most impressed reaction Korea ever got from him. "Interesting. Now can I have my dog and cat back to normal? Dogs aren't built to stay in trees and if Pochi gets hurt you're in trouble."

"Spoilsport. Fine - hey, America, give me a hand?" America picked up a stick and gently poked at the dog, who hissed at him. Pochi started to slip, and America hurried to catch him; the dog landed in his arms with a loud thump but no harm. Korea fiddled with the box. "Okay, we're locked on, now turn off the time delay, and..." The lights flickered and there was a soft pow sound, and Pochi wriggled in America's arms and barked normally. Tama hissed at Korea, who jumped back. "See, no harm done! It's perfectly safe. Want one?"

"What possible use could I have for it?"

"I 'unno. Less acting talent needed for live-action hentai?"

"Please stop implying that's my only export. America, stop laughing."

The first thing that woke Alfred up the next morning was an unbearable stomach ache; before even opening his eyes he curled up and groaned, massaging his cramping abdomen in the vain hope it would soothe the pain. Was he ill? No. Hungry. Ravenous. He hadn't felt this bad since the Great Depression... no, not even then. Why could he feel ribs? That couldn't be right.

He opened his eyes. A hotel room that wasn't his; another bed next to the one he lay in, and was that China's jacket on the chair back, and a neatly folded uniform on the seat? And then he somehow opened his eyes again. What the hell? Much blinking later he figured out the new perspective was from a couple of inches above his own head. He reached up, and felt the familiar shiver of touching Nantucket, except this time it was far too long and thin. He pulled it down, and after some more blinking he managed to use it to take a look at himself.

The Spirit in the down-turned curl showed him a familiar bony little face, fox-eyed and furrow-browed. He'd turned a flamethrower on that face's owner for a full minute once and she'd still got up and knifed him. He put his fingers up to the face's protruding cheekbones, realised they were now his, and screamed.

The bathroom door opened and China looked through it. "Chaoxian? Sweetie? Nightmares again?"

Alfred buried North Korea's face in her/his hands and groaned.