Cherry Blossom Girls International

by Harmon Cooper

  “You don’t need one of those jackets. It’s warm outside.”

  “What if it gets cold?”

  Seydou cackled. “Japan? If you wanted to visit a cold Japan, you should have come four months ago. It will only get hotter from here. Besides, those jackets are knockoffs from China. If you really want one of these jackets, there is a seller two streets over, he makes the real Japanese ones. Good quality. Good craftsmanship. Ah, here,” he said, coming to a glass door.

  He pulled a key from his pocket and opened it, turning on the light before letting us in.

  It was a small space, but there was a lot of women’s clothing here, as well as in the dressing room.

  Are you sure you will be able to convince this guy to give us this clothing for free? I thought to Chloe.

  I have already done so, she thought back. Don’t worry. Grace isn’t the only superpowered lady in this group.

  “Feel free to try on whatever you like,” said Seydou. “This is my finest shop. Only clothing from Europe, and Sapporo.”

  “Why Sapporo?” Ingrid asked as she moved to a rack of shirts.

  “Because I have a honey there,” he said with a bashful chuckle. “I call her wifey. But we don’t need to talk about her. It is sort of a secret. You promise not to tell anyone?”

  “Sure,” Ingrid said over her shoulder. “I won’t tell a soul.”

  “Good, now for men’s clothing, I have a shop across the hallway. While the ladies look around, maybe you and I can go and find something,” he told me.

  “Sure, as long as it isn’t hip-hop clothing,” I told him. “I won’t look good in it. Seriously.”

  Seydou started to cackle again. “A white man like you in hip-hop clothing? I wouldn’t do that to you. No, the shop only has high-end Japanese men’s fashion clothing. Ooo! That’s a mouthful. But we will get you something from there. Now come, let the ladies shop.”

  Speaking of Soundcloud rappers, Ingrid now wore hip-hop inspired clothing: an XXL shirt with ribbed leggings beneath and colorful DisNikes. Even though she was incredibly thin, I’d noticed before that she liked wearing large clothing, which I attributed to the fact that she morphed into Tulip, that terrifying creature, and part of her always had this in mind.

  Stella was in something that reminded me of a flapper dress, a bit long yet still sexy, beige, with frill on it and slightly puffy sleeves, which was something I’d already seen Japanese women wearing on the streets.

  Chloe was in a pair of dark jeans and a tight T-shirt, tied off at the front. She also had a light blue jacket on and a pair of pink Saucony on her feet.

  “You look good,” Stella told me with an encouraging nod.

  “I do?” I turned once, letting all the ladies check out the lone Cherry Blossom Boy.

  Chloe laughed. “I’ve never seen you in a suit before…”

  “It’s not quite a suit,” I told her as I took off the jacket. I handed it back to the Ivorian man known as Seydou. It was going to be too hot to wear at the moment.

  On my chest was a pressed shirt, white, the first two buttons open. I had light blue slacks on, which fit perfectly, and a pair of shiny leather shoes. I also had a couple of other bags of clothing, as did the girls. We would need clothing for the next several days, so everyone had gotten a variety of things to wear later on as well.

  Seydou folded my jacket, thought otherwise, and once I assured him it was okay, he folded it again and placed in one of the bags.

  “It’s going to get wrinkled that way,” Stella said as she moved over to me.

  “It’s okay, we can get it pressed when we get back to America.”

  “You really think we will take all this clothing back to America?” Ingrid asked, looking at the bags that we had stacked up on a bench.

  “Why not? And by the way, Stella, you look really good too,” I said.

  She frowned. “Let’s go to the meeting spot, and get this show on the road.”

  “Hey, those are my lines,” I reminded her.

  “Not anymore,” she said, playfully taking charge.

  We left the maze-like space relatively easily. As complicated as it was to get inside, the exit was simply a few doors away, which was strange, going from the labyrinth to the busy streets outside, the swelling crowd all around us.

  We are waiting for you all, I thought aloud to Grace.

  Her voice appeared in my head: We are almost ready. Get excited!

  I paused, wondering what this could mean. Then I remembered that we were in Japan, and I’d literally let Grace loose with several of the CBGs in a Japanese shopping district.

  So I did exactly that, I got excited.

  Even though I knew Grace could wear anything, there was no telling what they had picked out.

  And in the end, I wasn’t disappointed.

  Michelle was the first person I saw. She appeared right next to me, using her power in public, which she was not supposed to do. And I was about to bring this up to her when she smiled, doing a quick twirl and showing me her…

  Schoolgirl uniform?

  “Was this your idea or Grace’s?” I asked her.

  White top, scarf tied at her neck, short skirt, high white socks and black shoes. It was a textbook Japanese schoolgirl uniform, something that would have been perfect for a Sailor Moon cosplay convention, if those things even existed.

  “My idea. I saw someone dressed like this, and I said I wanted to dress like her. It’s cool, right?”

  “Sure, it’s okay…”

  “Just okay?” she pouted for a moment.

  “It looks great.”

  “Thank you, Gideon; I mean, Pastor; I mean, Dad. Which do you want? Dad or Pastor? I can say either/or.” Michelle turned to Ingrid to comment on her clothing. The other three approached, each of them turning the heads of the Japanese men walking by us.

  Grace was now, well, Japanese.

  She was dressed modestly, in a little sweater and a long skirt, neutral colors too. But her bust size was about three times larger than any other Japanese woman in the vicinity, and her hair was done up in Minnie Mouse Ear Buns with a Hello Kitty bow on the right bun.

  Veronique, who carried the majority of their “purchases,” wore a pair of short cowboy boots, cut-off jean shorts, and a plaid shirt over a red tank top with some writing on it. Nothing unusual about the way she was dressed, but she was still catching quite a bit of attention, especially from a guy who was pushing a cart and accidentally ran into a street sign.

  The punk rock teleporter was wearing a black V-neck sweater and a skull necklace. She also had a pair of black tights on, slits on the side showing the skin on her thighs, and a pair of leather Vans with little spikes jutting out of the toes.

  “Well, I’m glad that everyone has chosen clothing that they feel comfortable in,” I said.

  “And look at you,” Grace said, her voice not at all matching the way she looked.

  When she switched voices, and that voice matched her actual image, that made more sense. What was weird was when she used a different voice but still looked exactly like Grace normally looked, or when she took a new form but used her same voice.

  Like she was now as a Japanese woman.

  “Gideon, you look good for once,” Veronique said with a smile. “Cute, even.”

  “That’s Pastor,” I reminded her. “Remember everyone, we have code names here.”

  “Did you see?” Michelle asked. “Dad, did you see?”

  “Did I see what, um, Maria?”

  “We are on the news,” she said excitedly. “Everyone is talking about us. Everyone! We were walking past a bar and a tv was showing what happened in Shibuya last night. It was crazzzzzzzy! It turns out, we are on the news, and someone spoke English in the bar and they translated what was happening. Isn’t that right, Grace? It’s okay, I can tell him! Anyway, the Japanese people are calling us heroes. Isn’t that great? We are actually heroes! Veronique, you’re a hero too!”

  “Why are you singling me ou
t?”

  “Because you’re pretty fierce,” Dorian told the metal vampire with a smirk.

  “That’s great, Michelle,” said Chloe.

  The young speedster didn’t always talk as quickly as she was now, but there were times that it seemed her words and her mind actually kept pace with her superpower.

  “I hate to be a realist here,” I started to say, “but this means we need to be even more careful. Let’s just see how it pans out with the Japanese media, before we start celebrating.”

  “But they don’t hate us,” Michelle said. “Isn’t that great?”

  “Like I said, let’s just see how this plays out. Now, we need to take all the extra clothing back to the hotel. I know that I said you could do it, Michelle, but I think Dorian would be the best one to make this quick. Dorian?”

  “I’m on it. Grace, clear out some space over there and make sure no one’s looking,” Dorian said as she turned to a narrow alley that connected the main shopping streets.

  After I collected all the bags, I walked them over to Dorian, who was barely able to get them all in her hands at the same time.

  “We really got a lot, didn’t we?” she asked.

  “We sure did.”

  “Do you like shopping with us?”

  “As long as I get to shop too,” I told her with a grin.

  Dorian vanished in a purple pufff and reappeared in a matter of moments, empty-handed.

  “Did you miss me?” she asked.

  “I always miss you when you’re gone.”

  The others were standing far enough away for Dorian and I to have just a small moment. Over the last month, we had taken several trips together, alone, Dorian liking the ability to escape. Just like anyone, she was a bit different when she was alone with me rather than the persona she had to put up with when she was in the crowd.

  “Where are we going now?” she asked as she came into my arms for a moment.

  “Glad you asked, my dear. We are going to a place called Akihabara. We’ll walk. It’ll be awesome.”

  And that’s what we did.

  Now in our new clothing, with our bellies full of all Japanese Denny’s had to offer, we headed in the direction of Akihabara.

  It was a nice walk, a bit warm, but otherwise enjoyable.

  It was interesting to see how Japan looked when you got away from the main thoroughfares and popular districts. It became residential relatively quickly, and it made me wonder what it would be like to live in the heart of the city, yet feel like you were living in a suburb. There were still tall buildings, and the occasional Family Mart convenience store, or a mom-and-pop shop selling…

  Actually, I had no idea what some of the shops were selling.

  Some of it looked like traditional Japanese items, but others were a little bit easier to identify, like a garden shop that probably had six bonsai trees in it, or a place offering pastries that sort of reminded me of macaroons.

  I had broken a bit of a sweat by the time we reached Akihabara. The humidity in Japan was akin to Connecticut over the summer, a humidity so thick that it could be bottled and sold. Fuck the Nutmeg State in summer.

  “And what are we doing here?” Michelle asked, wide-eyed as she looked around at the glitzy buildings with huge anime posters strewn across their sides.

  “I thought I already told you…”

  “You and Ingrid have kept everything a secret,” she said, pouting.

  “That’s because things are more fun that way,” Ingrid told her.

  Stella shook her head. “I don’t know if I agree with that. I would prefer to know what was happening.”

  “To answer everyone’s questions: we are here to check out a district famous for its electronics and arcades, as well as its maid cafés and manga stores.”

  “This sounds like something you wanted to do, not us,” Michelle said.

  “Definitely a Gideon thing,” Veronique added. “I mean, Pastor thing.”

  “We will have fun at the arcade, I promise!”

  I saw the first arcade on the horizon, clear by the signage and storefront windows that revealed a ton of blinking lights behind them. Men and women hovered around games, from a super sweet drumming game to whatever Capcom’s latest version of Streetfighter was.

  What a rush. Just entering the place was like stepping into a video game wonderland.

  “Too many sounds,” Veronique said, her face going pale.

  “Did I just see a seven-story sex shop?” Grace asked me quietly.

  “Did you?”

  Can we check that out while the girls hang out at the arcade? Grace thought to me.

  I don’t know if that’s the greatest idea. How will we be sure that they stay here? I thought back.

  Look at them already, aside from Veronique.

  It was true, Michelle and Ingrid had already taken an interest in the drumming game, Michelle watching a Japanese teen beat the hell out of some skins; Chloe was fixated on a kid stepping on colored platforms, nodding her head along to the music; Stella seemed to be interested in the claw machines, watching as a Japanese girl in a school uniform tried to win a plush toy. Dorian was interested in the claw machine as well, looking deviously at Stella, who nodded, waiting to use her power.

  All right, but five minutes. And then after that, let’s explore this district some more, and then head to the zoo, I thought to Grace. And tell them not to disrupt any of the machines or do anything else that will bring attention to us.

  “Everyone, take a few minutes in the arcade and then we will continue deeper into the district. Stay with a partner, and don’t get lost. Ingrid and Michelle, Stella and Dorian, and Chloe and Veronique.”

  “Where are you going?” Veronique said as she caught up to Grace and me. The sliding glass opened, and we stepped outside, Grace immediately turning to the right.

  “You are supposed to be with Chloe,” I reminded her.

  “You don’t want to see what will happen to that arcade if you keep me in there another moment. And you never answered my question: where are you two going?”

  “There’s a seven-story sex shop,” Grace told her. “It could be interesting.”

  I was born in 2005, and Internet porn had been part of my life ever since I had figured out how to use GoogleFace. But the Japanese sex shop was on an entirely different level.

  Seven levels, to be exact.

  The first floor was relatively chill, just a bunch of blurred out videos, but once you got to the stairs, that was when you started seeing some of the raw stuff. Of course, everything was blurred out, but it was pretty easy to tell someone was shitting on someone else inside a mock subway train, regardless if the video was blurred or not.

  I never understood that part of Japanese porn.

  Much of it was even weirder and more twisted than some of the stuff we had in the States, yet somehow, blurring parts of it out made it… Better? Less offensive? Okay? And I knew it was a government regulation, that this wasn’t porn providers just trying to be clever.

  But it still threw me off.

  “This is getting weirder,” Veronique said as we moved to the second floor, which I quickly dubbed ‘vibrator central.’ Every type of vibrator known to humankind was on this floor, from dildos shaped like the Statue of Liberty (ouch!) to little clit vibrators that were built into a pair of panties, so you could wear them around and get off at the same time.

  Fun!

  “We’re going to have to get some of this stuff,” Grace said with a chuckle.

  “Why did I think you would say something like that?” I told her as we shuffled our way to the third floor.

  “Because I said it in your mind first?”

  “There are things I have now seen in here that I cannot unsee,” Veronique mumbled as she pointed at a dildo the size of a baseball bat with a fist on either side.

  “This is not my idea,” I reminded her.

  The third floor was apparently dedicated to pocket pussies. I had never seen the appeal o
f these things, but I’d never tried one, so maybe they did feel like the real thing. And who was I to yuck someone’s yum?

  But man, talk about a pocket pussy paradise.

  There were all sorts of muffs in the room, from big ones to small ones, and everything in between, even a section of vajs classified by the color of the hair and skin around them, the sex shop just keeping things inclusive AF.

  “No way,” I said as we got to the fourth floor, which just so happened to be the BDSM and pegging floor.

  “You sure you don’t want one of us to fuck you?” Grace asked with a giggle that caught the attention of a Japanese man behind the counter, who was smoking a cigarette. Apparently, that was okay, and if he was bothered by the fact that we were giggling at a bunch of strap-on dildos, he didn’t show it.

  “Definitely sure. Most definitely.”

  The two explored this floor for a minute, Veronique actually testing one of the whips and Grace flicking her finger against the strap-ons on display.

  Again, the guy at the counter just continued smoking his cig.

  The fifth floor of the sex shop was cosplay central, as was the sixth floor because of the fact that the space was quite small. I had no idea what to expect on the seventh floor, but I figured it would be the icing on the cake, something that would somehow be able to top the weirdness of all of this.

  And I was sadly mistaken.

  The final floor was dedicated to VR equipment, with every brand represented. They had a few haptic response sofa chairs as well, patrons demoing the VR porn, massaging the air with their hands, one guy looking like he was squeezing a pair of air titties.

  “Interesting,” said Grace, the psychic shifter standing in front of a Proxima VR advertisement.

  “Yeah, you could call it that,” I told her. “Well? Should we meet up with the others?”

  “Since when were you suddenly such a prude?” she asked.

  “He’s not the only one,” said Veronique. “I am pretty sure I saw a bunch of gagged ladies getting fondled by an octopus in one of the videos down there. But everything was blurred out. Why is sex so weird here?”

  “You do realize we had a foursome the other day, right?” I asked her, sort of playing devil’s advocate.