When England woke up the next day (jet lag and the time difference between countries had knocked the rather tired nation out for a while), he blinked a few times so that the tiny room would come back into focus. As the little chamber realigned itself, his ears picked up the faint sound of snoring and...chirping? Looking about for a moment for the possible source of the noise, it took the still-sleepy island nation a few seconds to identify the satchel he lay next to, and a few more to remember that there was a sleeping bird and mochi cuddled up inside it. Shaking his head to help clear it, he rubbed his eyes and pulled the satchel close, opening up the flap. Inside, Gilbird was curled up with his wings over his head, feathers slightly ruffled as he cheeped sleepily; Alfie, in contrast, had sidled up next to the tiny yellow avian, and was currently snoring faintly, mumbling a soft "Hahaha..." every so often, as a little string of drool dripped down and little puffs of breath blew that infamous cowlick all over the place.

Smiling slightly as he took in the sweet sight, England considered his options on what to do next: either wake up his two tiny companions so they could get breakfast and prepare for the day, or have them sleep a bit longer in the satchel and leave them in the capsule 'room' he'd rented for a few hours. After several minutes of weighing the pros and cons of either choice, the island nation's stomach rumbled; feeling a bid embarrassed, England decided simply to let everyone have breakfast first before planning out the day's schedule. But how to wake them? Shaking the satchel obviously was a bad idea, as it would not only possibly hurt the two little live contents inside, but also would make for a rather upset Gilbird (who would probably try to claw or peck him in retaliation) and an even more upset Alfie, who would probably think they were under attack or something. So, it was best just to open up the compartment (so they could at least see where they were) and wake them up quickly...With this thought in mind, he slipped his hand into the open compartment, and snapped his fingers.

The resulting noise, which was rather loud for Alfie and Gilbird (given their current size and proximity to the snapped fingers), caused an instant chain reaction: Gilbird let out a startled "PIYO!" and flew right up out of the open compartment and into the air, causing him to slam into the low ceiling of the capsule. The dazed bird fell back into the satchel quilts with a muffled thud. Alfie, on the other hand, let out a yell of "AAAAAAHHH! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! WE'RE UNDER ATTACK! DIVE, DIVE, DIVE! EVERYONE, GET UNDER THE BLANKIES!", and promptly burrowed as far into the fabrics as possible, shaking with apparent fear.

Sighing in faint frustration at the negative reaction, England looked into the open satchel to check if Gilbird was alright; the little bird was a tad dazed, with feathers rather ruffled, but on the whole seemed fine. Alfie had to be picked up out the quilt and patted several times on the head as the Briton reassured the tiny rice cake that they were not under attack, and that England had only been trying to wake them up. Gilbird, after regaining some motor functioning (and after the room stopped spinning so much), saw the mochi getting cuddled and decided that it wanted some of the attention. Chirruping in indignation, the bird hopped woozily over to the island nation and nudged his knees, a look of "HUG ME, DAMMIT!" plain as day on its pouting face.

Rolling his eyes, England scooped up the pouting avian and proceeded to hug both Gilbird and Alfie to his chest. A look of satisfaction graced Gilbird's face as he happily indulged in the radiated warmth, Alfie giving him an equally smug look, as if to say "Yeah, you get THIS whenever you want. Great, huh?". The little bird nodded in agreement; true, it wasn't as good as naps on Prussia's head, but this cuddling still felt really nice...and unlike with his master, he didn't wake up to the sour smell of beer, or the yelling from an angered Germany upon seeing the Prussian passed out and drooling in a drunken stupor, surrounded with alcohol bottles scattered about on the previously clean floor.

Looking down at the mochi and bird in his arms, England asked quietly, "Sorry to have woken you up so abruptly. I was just trying to get everyone up so we could get some food to help start the day off. So, do you two want any breakfast?" Both Alfie and Gilbird nodded. A split second later, their hunger was further confirmed when Alfie's stomach rumbled rather loudly, causing the little rice cake to blush slightly in embarrassment. Grinning a little, England set them down in the satchel again, closing the flap and telling them to wait a bit since he had to change. Gilbird, being a naturally mischievous bird after all the time spent with the Bad Touch Trio, tried to peek out of the satchel; this was quickly thwarted by Alfie, who let out a squeak of righteous indignation and promptly hopped onto Gilbird's back. Being somewhat larger than the little avian, this resulted with anchoring Gilbird in place with several
or so pounds of mochi-weight and thus angling the bird's head in such a manner that Gilbird could now only look at the quilt stitching.

Deciding that some good old-fashioned revenge was in order, Gilbird lifted up his left wing and swung it at Alfie; the mochi retaliated with grabbing the wing in its mouth, causing the feathers to be covered in mochi drool. Gilbird let out a squawk of outrage and twisted himself, knocking Alfie off in the process. As either satchel occupant moved to opposite sides of the "nest", the mochi and the bird eyed each other angrily. The silence was broken by
renewed tummy rumblings from them both. Letting out a soft huff of frustration, Gilbird conceded to a truce so that England wouldn't discover them fighting and do something unawesome as punishment, such as take away their breakfast. Alfie, who was both hungry and also unwilling to upset his sandy-haired friend, agreed. Thus, the 'Mochi-Gilbird' war was ended.

England, meanwhile, was blissfully unaware of the small scuffle that had happened in the satchel behind him, and was currently busy pulling on a pair of sneakers; having already exchanged his travel clothes (a long-sleeved button-up grey shirt and a pair of pants/trousers) for a pair of multi-pocketed tan cargo pants and a baby blue tee-shirt with short sleeves patterned with interlocking black circles. As he called out, "You can come out now!" Alfie hopped out of the satchel, Gilbird flying close behind. The mochi looked up at the sandy-blonde and giggled softly, having never seen England so...laid back with his clothes before. Gilbird, on the other hand, had more important things on his awesome mind: getting breakfast, and then taking a nice nap.

As the island nation looked over at the two other occupants of the capsule 'room', he was suddenly struck with a worrying thought: how on earth was he supposed to be able to smuggle Gilbird out? Alfie could be held in his arms and would be able to pass for a stuffed toy of sorts, or a plushie won at a summer carnival; if he talked, England could even give the excuse that Alfie was one of those plushies with "voice action!" capabilities. Prussia's pet, however, was a highly flighty little bird with a penchant for noise and mischief of the highest degree. Perhaps he'd have to buy a pet carrier or something to put Gilbird in? No, that wouldn't work, that would be expensive, and he'd just chatter away and claw at the bars and complain the whole day long, and that would draw a lot of unwanted attention. He wanted to enjoy his last day of relaxation before the meeting, after all. He didn't want to spend it getting arrested by reports of "disturbing the peace" because he'd been pandering to the whims of a nonsensical little avian that had been pampered by Prussia for centuries (though he inwardly acknowledged that he did coddle Alfie and his magical friends, if just a bit).

But as this thought process was making its merry way through England's head, Gilbird was looking over England's hair rather critically, going over the pros and cons of using the island nation's hair for a temporary 'throne'. True, it was not awesome Prussian hair, but he WAS rather tired. And since he was still rather annoyed at his master, it wouldn't be cheating on his usual throne, not really, especially since Prussia probably had dunked his head into a sake barrel again like the last time they had visited Japan. The funny-smelling rice-made drink may have tasted good to his master, but it had made Gilbird's throne smell funny for a whole two days before Germany, handkerchief over his nose and mouth to block out the smell, had proceeded to shove Prussia's head into the kitchen sink back home, and give the silvery-white locks a thorough (and rather rough) scrubbing...

From the peace-talks he'd engaged in with Alfie (the quilt in the satchel had been established as a de-militarized zone, and used to hold the 'Mochi-Gilbird' treaty that decreed permanent peace between mochi and bird for the sake of both England and breakfast.), the 'awesome' bird had learned that England's hair was very soft and warm, and Alfie, rather like Gilbird, deemed such good hair their personal favorite place to nap. But Alfie, being a hero-mochi, was willing to share this special territory so Gilbird would have a place to nap until he got back to Prussia. Gilbird was rather grateful for this, and happily decided that the mochi and England weren't so bad, and perhaps, if England's hair really was so nice, even 'awesome' (even if they were at a somewhat lesser degree of 'awesome' than his master...who he was still a bit mad at for leaving him on the sidewalk.).

So England, still lost in his musings, was suddenly surprised to find Gilbird flying at his head, and Alfie hopping up onto his knees, then his shoulders, and then finally onto his head. As Alfie settled into place amongst his sandy-blonde locks, he was further shocked when Gilbird proceeded to snuggle up next to Alfie, draping a wing in companionship over the left side of the mochi. England, despite the rising impulse to yell at the two for taking over his hair, was put in mind of the many times back home where Alfie would snuggle into his hair. It was clear that Gilbird wanted the same thing. 'Great, just great', he thought in mixed parts resignation and partial amusement, 'First Alfie, now Gilbird. I seem to be attracting strange creatures to nest in my hair these days...'

Sighing softly, he finished putting his sneakers on, closed the satchel and slung it over his shoulders, and crawled out of the chamber, careful not to knock his hair's two occupants off when he ducked his head. After checking the nearby cubby-holes where customer luggage was stored (he wanted to make sure his suitcases were still there), England shut the door, before walking out of the hotel and into the hot summer air.

It was only midmorning, and already the denizens of Greater Tokyo were hard at work: street vendors selling quick meals and snacks, restaurants and shops open and packed with people, and everywhere were dozens of people. Businesspeople briskly walking across the streets when the lights changed; groups of students hurrying across sidewalks in clusters, schoolbags decorated with cell-phone charms, stickers, and packed with books and papers being swung everywhere; families eating breakfast in apartments, talking on phones, ushering their children out the door with bentos in one hand, school briefcases in the other...the pounding of hundreds of feet, the honking of car horns and the glare of sunlit windows, the glow of stoplights, and the constant crush of noise from talking...! England stared for a moment at the midmorning chaos before him, before getting onto the sidewalk and waiting for the light to change.

When the light finally changed from red to green, the sandy-blonde instinctively began running towards the other side of the crosswalk, followed and soon surrounded by the mad rush of oncoming citizens. When he finally got to the other side, England had been accidently elbowed twice, accidently crashing into from behind once, and had his toes stepped on about five times. Despite the apologies that had been said, he hoped increasingly to find a good place to eat soon, or else his provoked temper would end up causing an international incident.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, AT A NEARBY RESTAURANT~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

England had managed to locate a small, traditionally furnished noodle eatery about a block and a half away from the capsule hotel, and had been seated at a low table by a window. To his relief, the waitress that seated him had simply thought Alfie and Gilbird were some exotic cosplay headgear from an anime convention downtown, and thus he had only been asked to take the "hat" off for politeness' sake. The cushion "seat" next to him thus was given to Alfie and Gilbird. Once the waitress had gone to give their order to the cook (a plate of spring rolls and a small bowl of noodles with green onions), the pre-meal hot towels became rather useful for wiping his sweaty hands, though Alfie had to be told that the towel was now considered dirty (as the mochi had become curious and wanted to 'clean up' too.).

Thanks to the provided pot of green tea, the island nation's temper had cooled down and his mood had cheered up considerably. Alfie was munching on a big piece of lettuce from the spring roll ordered as an appetizer; Gilbird had his head buried neck-deep in a shallow bowl of sesame seeds provided as extra seasoning. Fortunately, as they were the only customers in this section of the restaurant, England could relax somewhat about whether or not someone might see his "hat" sitting on a cushion and eating along with him.

When the food arrived, England quietly thanked the waitress, before breaking the provided wooden chopsticks cleanly, folding both hands together in front of his chest, and muttering a quick "Itadakimasu!" (Time spent visiting Japan had taught him that it was best to pay respects to the host country's customs). With this said, he began tucking into the noodles with vigor, savoring the hot noodles and rich flavoring. Alfie laughed softly as the bowl emptied out rapidly; the food was vanishing almost as fast as the tea had.

Gilbird, on the other hand, had polished off the sesame seeds and felt rather thirsty. The little avian hopped off the cushion, fluttering over to England and letting out a soft "Piyo!" as he pointed to the empty cup with one wing. A single large eyebrow rose in question at the bird's pointing; letting out a soft huff at the lack of understanding, Gilbird hopped over to the cup and dipped his head in, miming drinking. Realization dawned in acid green eyes at the sight, and England quickly looked about for something to give Gilbird to drink. But with the tea kettle empty, there was no beverage in sight, and he couldn't just ask the waitress to get a cup of juice or water for a bird that they thought was part of his "hat", they'd think him mad... 'Hmm, what to do, what to do...' he wondered, staring at the empty cup as if it would provide an answer.

Gilbird was also staring at the cup, but in a way that said that it clearly blamed the empty container for its problem, as it had no drink in it when the awesome Gilbird needed a drink! Alfie, meanwhile, was watching Gilbird, amusement clearly shining in its big blue eyes at the almost ridiculous, yet somehow comedic sight of the avian pouting at an empty teacup.

Suddenly, Alfie had an idea. Seeing as it had seen England use magic at home to lock doors, summon books for bedtime reading, and heat the tea kettle (as well as protect the mochi from becoming Gilbird's lunch yesterday), why didn't its friend use magic to make a drink for Gilbird? With this thought in mind, the rice cake quickly scarfed down the remaining shred of its lettuce, and hopped into England's lap, chirruping "Why don't you just do magic to give him somethin' ta drink?" The island nation pondered this for a moment, before replying, "I would if I could, but I can't. There are some things you can't do with magic, and making food or drink is one of them; it's a universal law. I can't just make a beverage appear out of thin air. Unless..."

It was almost as if a light bulb had gone off over the sandy-blonde's head. England had just remembered the food and drink magic loophole: water. Conjuration of water was quite acceptable by magical standards; granted, it wouldn't taste very flavorful, but it was a beverage that could be made without trouble (so long as he said the spell quietly), so it would have to do. Though it DID come in a stream of water, rather than a trickle, so the pot would have to be used to hold it all first, and then to pour some into the cup. Holding his hand out over the empty kettle, England whispered a soft,"Aguamenti."; the kettle was filled with fresh, clear water. The island nation reached for the kettle lid, intent on putting it back on so he could pour some for the thirsty bird; Gilbird, however, was impatient, and instead hopped onto the rim of the open pot, clutching with his claws for a good foothold, and then stuck his head in, drinking deeply and causing little air bubbles to appear on the water's surface.

England, who had meanwhile picked up the lid, quickly dropped it back onto the table as he stared in shock at Gilbird's draining of the kettle. Forcing back a stream of curse words at the sheer lack of hygiene from this act (after all, he very much doubted that the restaurant staff would be happy upon discovering that one of their pots had been used by a strange bird (When WAS the last time Gilbird had been cleaned again?) for a sort of bird-drink dispenser.), the island nation quickly grabbed Gilbird and pulled him free of the teapot, muttering scoldings under his breath as he vanished the contents of the pot with a quick "Evanesco!", and then a "Scourgify" to clean the pot of possible avian germs, just in case.

As the pouting bird was dried with a napkin and put back onto the cushion, a teacup full of water was placed in front of him, along with a warning to "Not drink out of the blasted teapot again, you silly bird! If you do that again, we'll get in trouble!" Alfie gave only a little sympathy, promptly muttering "It WAS your fault. You might have fallen in and got stuck in there too, and I don't think bird tea tastes too good to most people!" Gilbird let out a soft "piyo..." of misery; normally he could do stupid, strange things and feel no worse for it, but this was different, somehow. These two had been nice to him, they'd let him sleep in fuzzy quilts, talked to him, and gave him breakfast. He'd even gotten to sit in hair that was (almost) as good as his master's hair. He didn't mean to make everyone so upset, he was just thirsty...

As he looked at the sad little creature, England let out a soft sigh; MUST he have such a blasted soft spot for all things cute and cuddly? It must be a side-effect of staying with Flying Mint Bunny too long...

England gently reached down and picked up both mochi and bird, placing Alfie on one knee and Gilbird on the other, as he muttered, "The things I do for you lot...". Gently petting the top of Gilbird's head with his thumb, he picked up the full teacup and held it in front of him, a silent peace offering. Alfie nodded encouragingly to Gilbird as the upset avian looked up. Then both mochi and nation smiling slightly, as Gilbird gently nudged the teacup into the middle of England's lap, allowing both himself and Alfie to share.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MEANWHILE, WITH PANICKING PRUSSIA AND HALF-AMUSED, HALF-SYMPATHETIC FRANCE~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

France was not quite sure when he'd last seen Prussia this upset. To have Prussia without Gilbird was like toast without butter, peanut butter without jelly, north Italy without pasta, himself without love...it just didn't WORK! It was as if the world had turned upside down and the sky had started raining burnt scones!

The albino was currently running around, grabbing people by the shoulders and shouting into their faces "HAVE YOU SEEN MY BIRD?" It would be almost comical if he hadn't known just how much the little bird meant to his friend. After all, he and Gilbird were practically inseparable; he'd had the little yellow flying fuzz ball back when he'd been part of the Teutonic Knights, all the way back to the start of his existence. To see Prussia running about like this was, in short, both funny and sort of sad, really, considering that Prussia had now gone past the 'panicking' stage and was now going through the 'complete and utter breakdown' stage, complete with the beer-loving nation falling onto his knees right there in the middle of the park and wailing that "FATE IS SO DAMN UNAWESOME TO MEEEEEEE!"

Face met palm as France regarded the whimpering albino, a hand placed sympathetically on his shoulder. Perhaps he'd better call Spain and have him help too...and perhaps bring along some earplugs while he was at it...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~AFTER BREAKFAST~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After paying the bill, thanking the restaurant staff for the meal, and heading outside, England was once again on the sidewalk, though this time both Alfie and Gilbird were in his arms rather than on his head. Looking about, he wondered where they should all go next. The park, perhaps? No, Gilbird would just compete for seeds thrown by the elderly people who fed the birds. The mall, or a movie theatre, maybe? No, if they went to the mall they'd all get lost and someone might try to take Gilbird and Alfie away for looking like possible stolen "plushie" merchandise, and if they went to the movies then the two would complain about it because it would be dark, and they wouldn't be allowed to talk, and they wouldn't know what the people onscreen were saying during the film. Also, England was rather sure that birds and talking rice cakes (no matter how cute) were illegal to bring into movie theatres.

Perhaps a festival, then? There were plenty of those during summertime in all parts of Japan, and both Gilbird and Alfie could pass as stuffed toys won at a game booth (so long as they kept quiet and didn't move around too much). But what festivals were going on today?

Taking out his cell-phone from one of his pants pockets, England looked at the small screen and saw the date: July 7th.

July 7th. He'd missed America's birthday.

Feeling slightly upset and sad for a reason he couldn't quite yet fathom, the island nation closed his phone and put it away, trying to push away the strange feelings. So what if America hadn't called and invited him to his birthday? He wasn't upset, right? Right?...But he couldn't lie to himself. He WAS upset; even if he turned down the invitations, and usually got sick around this time of year (though he hadn't this year; perhaps the arrival and company of Alfie had something to do with it?), he still secretly enjoyed being invited. He enjoyed it, even if only a bit, because it showed that America wanted him there. But he hadn't called this year...

Blinking back the tears that suddenly threatened to spill forth, he furiously rubbed his hand over his eyes and instead returned his attentions to the idea of the festival. Going over dates of some of the festivals from his visits to Japan, he realized that the Tanabata festival was today. They could go see that.

Smiling a bit at this new turn of events, he looked down at the mochi and bird in his arms and whispered softly," Do you want to go to a festival today?" Gilbird chirruped a soft "Piyo!" of agreement, and Alfie smiled happily with a soft, affirmative "Uh-huh!" Thus the plans for the day were set.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~BACK WITH PRUSSIA, FRANCE, AND NOW SPAIN~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

France had only been able to withstand another hour or so of Prussia's wails and complaints about the absence of Gilbird, before his patience snapped into a million pieces and he decided to enlist the help of Spain. The tomato-crazed nation had shown up soon after with a smile on his face and a spring in his step, apparently unfazed by a request to find the lost bird of a personified country that no longer officially existed by political standards.

Within several hours of frantic searching, however, the Bad Touch Trio was forced to take a break from their fruitless efforts. The combing of Greater Tokyo had yielded no results (other than the usual hitting on the locals, and getting either polite, embarrassed refusals, or slaps to the face in return). Prussia was going absolutely mental with the loss of his avian companion, and it was grating on France's nerves to have to listen to his friend's constant whining when there was no pretty women or wine to block it out. Spain, on the other hand, was happily searching everything within a foot or more's worth of reach for Gilbird, upturning garbage cans and looking under park benches, searching store counters, peeking under restaurant tables and chairs, and asking dozens of civilians about the lost Gilbird. Every hour or so he'd also place a call to his beloved Romano and chatter aimlessly into his phone for quite a while about all sorts of things, before Prussia, in a fit of missing Gilbird-induced grief and annoyance, would yank the phone out of his friend's hands (smacking him upside the head as he did so), drop the call, and remind him to keep looking.

The hot sun was baking the three in their summer civilian clothing as they walked, and France was becoming increasingly annoyed (the fact that the heat was making his luxurious hair frizz and curl in all directions was certainly not helping either). Sighing as they passed another city block and there was still no sign of Gilbird, he wondered if he should have just let Spain deal with Prussia's missing bird problem.