The knapsack closed with little difficulty, which seemed somewhat surprising, seeing that Japan had packed it full of Natsu-san gel snack packs. He always remembered to pack enough for a rainy day, but he always ended up packing away enough for several monsoons in a row.

He'd arrived at the Summit room early enough to meet America for his first escapade into a new culture. Unfortunately, Alfred wasn't present as of yet, it was practically expected of America to always be late to anything. Kiku looked around the room, wincing as he caught sight of the familiar oak table he'd mounted just a day ago. Walking over to it absentmindedly, he ran his hand across the tables surface. It almost felt alive, it'd witnessed so many incidents after all, if only it could talk.

Oh the stories a table could tell…Kiku mused, laughing to himself.

Alfred burst in, greeting the meek Japanese man with a rough wallop on the back.

"Goooood morning, Japan! Are we ready to embark? We'll take my car, and our first stop will be Los Angeles, then we'll speed over to Manhattan, then perhaps Miami…"

Kiku smiled as he listened to Alfred chatter on ecstatically. The man barely paused to take a breath, running through his itinerary at a breakneck pace. Alfred's glasses were sliding down his nose, his hair all askew, he always looked so relaxed yet…so anxious.

"Ahem…yes. We should visit all those places as you said, America." Kiku grabbed his backpack, following Alfred out the door of the Summit room. He drowned out the American's rambling by observing the sights around him as they entered the main building of the United Nations. After all, he was still new at the World Commerce center. He saw hundreds of people dressed in formal wear from their respective cultures, bustling in groups, some outcasts. They all spoke a flurry of languages, meshing together at once in sort of a chaotic way.

Slightly overwhelmed, Kiku struggled to keep sight of the ever elusive Alfred, who ducked in and out of groups of people rudely so he could get to the parking lot. Japan bowed countless times in apology as he followed the frantic American to the parking garage.

Seating himself next to Alfred, he buckled his seatbelt, preparing himself for a bumpy ride. Japan was well aware of Alfred's recklessness as a country, and his decisions behind the wheel didn't leave much to the imagination. The man even insisted that red lights were "for jackasses dumb enough to stand in my way."

The entire day had done absolutely nothing but exhaust Kiku to no end. He was an old man after all, he couldn't handle these roughneck activities like window shopping, off roading, wakeboarding, anything like that. The two had finally agreed on a restaurant by a rather charming boardwalk in Florida, a hot spot called Mangoes. Alfred sat down, throwing his jacket at an unsuspecting waitress, and began to shove bread rolls down his throat with vigor. Japan blushed furiously, bowing profusely to the waiting staff as well. Even with his seemingly endless patience for Alfred's outbursts and antics, there was a limit. And since Kiku's back was sore from the bowing, that limit was inching closer with every second.

"Dey gawf guh breh roahs heah righ?" Alfred remarked with a grin, his mouth stuffed with the bread rolls.

"Evidently." Kiku commented, toying at his Balsamic dressed salad with a flimsy, plastic fork, his eyes unable to meet Alfred's. He'd learned a lot from America and he was grateful for the trip, but being kicked out of every eating establishment they'd visited was really unnecessary and frankly embarrassing.

Their waiter made his way to their table as slowly as possible. It was clear he wanted to avoid the American's idiotic antics as well. "What would you both like to order tonight?"

Alfred's order was earth shatteringly original. A hamburger.

Japan declined kindly, he found the icons and most of the names of the dishes on the menu to be uncleanly, unhealthy, and for the most part revolting anyway.

No need to get food poisoning this early on the trip.

The waiter collected their menus, chastising Alfred lightly that punching the table, shouting "A HERO NEEDS A FULL STOMACH!" wasn't going to convince anyone to cook his food faster.

Kiku's mind drifted off into scattered thoughts as he watched the hero act like a 7 year old. He felt a pang of regret for visiting America first. And he couldn't help but find himself imagining how the day could've been different if he'd gone to France.

The food certainly would've been a lot more tasteful…

But having to deal with that intolerable pervert would be just as bad as being here…

He scowled to himself, ashamed he'd even thought of the idea. Francis would've definitely seduced him without a doubt, and he would've been miserable and trapped in France for the extent of his stay. He shuddered at the thought, yet he couldn't lure his mind away from the possibilities of a physical encounter with the romantic pervert.

As bad as it was…

I can't deny the rush it gave me, one that I rarely feel at home…

He was roused from his thoughts as he watched the incorrigible American shout for a fourth plate of lemons from the waiting staff. Japan was tempted to excuse himself to call himself a taxi, but their waiter returned to his rescue instead. He held a small cellular phone in his hand, it was already flipped open, and someone was already on the line. "Will you accept this call?" the waiter asked, gesturing for Japan to grab the phone. Alfred was far too busy flirting with the barstaff, and he figured the phone call wouldn't take long anyway.

Kiku took the cellphone, walking out of the restaurant to the outer eatery area near the docks. At least outside there would be more peace and quiet.

"Konichiwaaa~..Kiku speaking."

"Good afternoon, Japan. How are you this evening?" A clear, crisp voice greeted Japan. He racked his brain, he couldn't really place where he'd heard the voice before.

"…if you're wondering, this is Katsuya Okada of the Ministry of Foreign Affairs of Japan. We wanted to ensure that your trip has been successful thus far."

Kiku gave a huge sigh of relief, a familiar voice from his homeland was comforting in times of stress…especially with America.

"Y-yes, things are going well, I'm with America today, and tomorrow I might visit England."

"Well, we've decided it's in your best interest that we issue you a delegate from our own country to supervise this trip. You are on foreign soil, you realize this? I don't trust all the other countries involved here."

Kiku frowned at this, he was a little disappointed he couldn't even take a trip without accompaniment and supervision from his government.

"Yes, but I am treading lightly on foreign soil. The others are leading me. Nothing suspicious at all, it's just a cultural revolution project, and I wanted to complete it myself…" Japan found himself rambling, ashamed at arguing with a man of such high political standing over such a small matter.

"It is in your best interest. We'll be sending a small watercraft to pick you up near your current location. Don't make Alfred aware of your departure."

"At once, Okada-san." Japan nodded in complete agreement, closing the phone promptly. He couldn't help but feel guilt from leaving America without warning, but his homeland was calling him, it must've been for some reasonable cause.

He held the cell phone in the palm of his hands, the heat warming him a little against a little tropical breeze. Japan liked the beach areas of Florida, it was almost like his homeland in some respects. The ocean view could make any busy-body quite sanguine if they just spent a moment to take in the sights, after all.

Japan's attention was diverted as a small boat jetted forth to the boardwalk area, bobbing slightly in the choppy Floridian waters. The craft itself was impressive, an eggshell white hull, with a maple glazed deck, bordered by thick silver railings.

He walked down the dock towards the boat depot, confused at the sight of the intimidating craft. The waiter accompanied to retrieve the cell phone he'd lent Kiku.

Japan leaned forward to scrutinize the boat. "Why did Okada-san send such an expensive craft to escort me?" He remarked, eyeing the boat incredulously. "And who on earth will pilot it…I don't even see a captain…"

The kind waiter approached Kiku, aiding him in boarding the craft with little difficulty. As soon as his feet reached the deck, Kiku went around the boat, scouring the vehicle for Mr. Okada, or perhaps a representative to talk to. He had to share his cultural findings with someone, anyway.

A low rumble sent Kiku sprawling to the floor. The floor vibrated much like the cellphone he'd used earlier, but everything around him shook violently, the whole world felt off tilt for some reason. He wasn't really accustomed to sea travel.

Finding his bearings, Kiku managed to climb from the belly of the boat to the upper deck, where oddly enough, the Mangoes waiter stood, watching the ocean with an optimistic smile. The boat had taken off at quite a hasty speed, cutting the waters like a knife through butter.

With much effort, Japan made his way to the railing near where the waiter stood, leaning against it with all his might. "Would y-you happen to know where we're headed now?"

"Not really." The waiter answered shortly, he was far too preoccupied with the breeze of the waters to care about what Kiku had to say. "I'm the captain of this boat, as so it happens, yet I know nothing of it's destination."

"W-well, I hope there'll be calmer waters wherever we're headed." Japan murmured weakly, feeling his face tinge a sick green. "I'm growing quite ill. I may need to rest in a cabin." he turned away slowly, desperate to find a place to lie down.

A large hand reached out to restrain Kiku.

"You may use mine if you'd like." The captain commented, slowing the boat to a complete stop. "Hmm…that should about do it."

"Are you s-sure we can stop the boat? Mr. Okada might need me to report home at onc-"

The captain leaned the uneasy Japanese man onto a soft cot in the Captain's quarters, ordering him to lie flat.

"No need to worry about Okada, or whatever." the captain retorted, a hint of alacrity in his voice.

"What? But.." Japan protested loudly, feeling the nausea fade, his strength slowly returning.

The captain approached Kiku, removing his shirt slowly, careful not to muss the man's clean cut hairstyle.

"WH!"

Japan was silenced by a swift movement, a crushing of warm lips against his. He was startled for the time being, unable to move or react. He pulled away finally, his face pale with shock.

"That was quite uncalled for, sir!" Japan shouted, unable to control a dark blush shading his cheeks. He rubbed his chin sorely. "How unexpected, rude and…rough…" Japan stammered.

"Abrasive, yet…melted on your lips like an exquisite dish that teases the palate?" The captain asked smugly, he'd distanced himself, turned away from the startled Kiku.

"Ah…wait!" Kiku demanded. "Why…why did you back away so quickly after you kissed me?" His heart raced, he began to panic, his mind slowly coming to the realization.

"You…you knew that I'd try to hit you after you kissed me, didn't you?" Kiku barked, sitting up rapidly, his eyes widening.

The captain laughed uproariously. "Oui, Japan. You certainly captures a assez rapide, don't you?"

Japan froze, shuddering at his grave mistake.

The irony of it all, I never bothered to question the phone call…

I never even told Alfred where I was headed…

"T-there's nothing you can do, Francis, let me go!" Japan stammered, his confidence waning quick.

"En fait, there is." Francis turned around, quickly tearing off his guise, tacky mariner clothes falling in tatters to the ground. Underneath was a dark pinstripe suit, an elegant rose tucked into the breastpocket.

"If you bothered to check, we're miles into the Intracoastal waterway. Which means, my dear prisonnier de l'amour, that for your next cultural lesson, with no one in sight to interrupt us, you'll be with me."