Even before she returned to Japan after graduating from the University of Missouri, Kaede had been obsessed with the sailor fuku, the typical uniform worn by Japanese schoolgirls. Dressing like Sailor Moon would give her a superpower: the courage to live as a trans woman in her home country whose laws remained hostile to sexual minorities.

        One morning, Kaede spotted a girl in such a uniform waiting for a train on the subway platform.

        “What are you looking at?” the girl snapped, as she wrangled her hair into a ponytail.

        Kaede wanted to tell her that she’d only been studying the girl’s sailor fuku, imagining what it would be like to be swathed in the navy fabric.

        “I'm sorry,” Kaede apologized, looking down.

        “You pervert!” the girl mumbled before getting on a train.

        Kaede didn’t run after the girl; she didn’t want to frighten her. She never wanted to frighten anyone.

        To Kaede, the sailor fuku symbolized grace, beauty, and justice. She had wanted to be Usagi Tsukino, better known as Sailor Moon, since she was a preschooler in Kawasaki.

        Kaede had sat in the sandbox with a group of children playing with pails and shovels. She glanced at the sandcastle they had built together.

        “Who wants to be Usagi?” Maki asked, brushing away a few stray strands of hair with her free hand. Even though Maki had hardly acknowledged Kaede’s existence, Kaede had always admired her from afar.

        “Me?” Kaede raised her hand, nervous. She looked around, measuring others’ reactions.

        “You can’t be Usagi!” Maki exclaimed.

        “Why not, Maki?” Kaede asked, tilting her head.

        “Because you’re not a girl, you silly boy!”

        The other kids jeered, and Kaede fought hard to hold back tears. She kicked down the sandcastle and stormed away without turning back. Hot tears scorched her cheeks.

        As Kaede left the station—too ashamed to wait for the next train—she bit her lower lip and pondered Maki and her friends. She hadn’t kept in touch with any of them.

        Kaede remembered how her pulse had quickened waiting to be paired with Maki for their pre-K class’s traditional folk-dance lesson. Kaede’s heart pounded in her ears when she caught a whiff of Maki’s soapy scent. Wearing a smile that could have cut glass, Maki refused to meet Kaede’s gaze. Maki’s fingers were cold to the touch, and her clammy palms embarrassed Kaede.

        Maki might still be in Kawasaki, but Kaede didn’t remember her last name, so she knew locating her on social media would be a tall order. Maybe the past was better left alone. What if Maki hadn’t changed?

        Japan hadn’t changed much, as far as she could tell.

        When she landed at Narita Airport, Japan didn’t immediately strike Kaede as transphobic. Not aggressively so. Even the microaggressions were milder compared to the slurs she received in Missouri. The immigration officer who had attended Kaede was all smiles despite the obvious discrepancies between her five-year-old passport photo and her post-transition self. There were enough unisex public toilets in Japan, for which Kaede was ever grateful, as she had a small bladder. Passersby, especially elderly women, showed kindness toward her, perhaps because she walked with a limp and used a cane.

        A week before, she had met an older woman, perhaps in her late sixties or early seventies, on this very road. Dressed in drab clothes, the woman wore her white hair in a bun. Kaede walked toward the station as the woman chatted with her friends in front of a modern marble building.

        “Are you all right?” The woman’s voice was friendly, as if she were speaking to her granddaughter, and she stopped in front of Kaede with

a smile.

        “I was in a car accident in America.” Kaede bowed to show the

woman reverence.

        “Where are you going?” the woman asked, genuine worry in her voice.

        “Bandobashi Station.”

        “It’s raining. I don’t want you to catch a cold.”

        The woman held her umbrella over Kaede’s head and walked Kaede to the subway entrance.

        A few days later, the woman once again greeted Kaede on her way to the station.

        “I see you’re walking better than before. Take good care of yourself.”

        The woman was hardly alone in showing concern for Kaede’s well-being.

        While the majority of the Japanese populous held permissible views on same-sex marriage, politicians were another story altogether. In December 2022, new regulations barred lesbian couples and single women from accessing IVF and artificial insemination. As far as the law was concerned, being transgender was a mental illness, and surgical sterilization was required to attain a legal sex change.

        When Kaede was five, she went to a summer festival near her house. As the soft twilight descended, all the neighborhood kids swarmed the local shrine where food stalls filled the premises, offering delights like takoyaki and okonomiyaki. The aroma of freshly cooked batter wafted through the air, clashing against the pungent odor of ginkgo nuts.

        Kaede stood apart from everyone else. To her envy, girls wore yukata and carried round uchiwa in their hands. The geta on their feet made hollow clacks as they moved along. A tattooed vendor displayed trinkets in front of him, and a shiny red ring caught Kaede’s attention. After much hesitation, she reached for the ring and slipped it on her finger. So engrossed, she didn’t notice Yoshiki, an older boy who lived next door, standing behind her.

        “You’re an okama!” Yoshiki shouted, pointing to Kaede’s ring. He had always made fun of her effeminate manner, and though it was true that Kaede liked playing with dolls, the name-calling stung.

        “No, I’m not!” Kaede slapped Yoshika’s cheek before running away. She crossed the street without regard for the traffic, and cars screeched to a halt, their horns blaring. When she arrived home, still out of breath, she realized she hadn’t paid for the ring.

        When Kaede entered elementary school, she had tried to act like any other boy to avoid being bullied, but sometimes she gave into the urge and painted her nails pink.

        Many sexual minorities in Japan, especially those from older generations, stayed in the closet. There were hardly any benefits to coming out in a conformist society like Japan. As for trans people, they were invisible except for when comedians mocked them on variety shows.

        Kaede felt quite isolated, not belonging to a queer community, let alone a group of trans friends. Hiding in the closet was never an option for Kaede. Even though she had no activist streak in her, she liked going against the grain. She felt a rush whenever she could be open and proud in a world that didn’t welcome her. She didn’t pass most of the time, nor did she care to. She chose girly clothes and colors that visibly screamed “female.”

        To her relief, she was never harassed in the streets. Lacking the religious zealotry of conservative Americans, Japanese people were indifferent to Kaede’s gender identity. Not cognizant of LGBTQ+ issues, many passersby had presumably failed to recognize her as a trans woman. Crossdressers, transvestites, transsexuals, drag queens—all were the same to them. Kaede remained an abstract concept.

        Kaede met Yuki at the café around the corner from her apartment. They had briefly dated in high school before Kaede left Japan, and Yuki hadn’t changed since Kaede last saw her. Now working as an office lady in Tokyo, Yuki wore a pleated skirt and tidy socks, but her cellphone was heavy with pink charms: red-eyed rabbits, tiny fire-breathing kaiju. Though Kaede wasn’t an anime enthusiast anymore, Yuki clearly was. Anime characters Kaede didn’t recognize swung among Yuki’s collection of charms.

        While Kaede was in America, robots and apps had replaced human servers in Japan. After the women took turns ordering on the tablet, a robot waiter wheeled over, beeped noisily, and brought their coffees.

        As Yuki sipped her coffee—their outdoor table covered by green leaves—all Kaede tasted was envy. She envied cosplayers wearing sailor suits. She envied Yuki’s effortless feminine charm.

        Not particularly feminine, Kaede feared being deemed a pervert, and she couldn’t stop worrying about that girl on the subway platform. What if she called the police? Even so, Kaede couldn’t give up her dream of wearing a schoolgirl uniform.

        “I almost didn’t recognize you, Kaede.” Yuki smiled, making a point of not deadnaming her friend. “I had my suspicions, though,” she continued in a teasing tone. “You always wanted to try on my clothes.”

        Kaede sipped her coffee and almost gagged. Cheeks burning, she remembered how she had once struggled to slip into Yuki’s figure-hugging white sweater. It had been too small for Kaede’s angular body.

        “Not that there’s anything wrong with that,” Yuki hastened to add in an apparent attempt to put Kaede at ease.

        Kaede didn’t respond, but Yuki never objected to carrying both halves of a conversation.

        “How do you feel about being back in Japan?” Yuki asked.

        “It’s weird.”

        “I can imagine. Japan must feel so tiny compared to America.” She sipped her drink, and she seemed to have no problem with the heat. “Have you spoken to your parents since you got back? I just saw them the other day shopping at Lazona Kawasaki Plaza.”

        Kaede didn’t want to talk about her parents. She brought the cup to her lips and took another sip.

        In Missouri, she’d started dressing as a woman and called herself “Kaede”—maple in Japanese—without causing much stir among her American friends.

        But she knew her parents wouldn’t allow her to be her authentic self. She hadn’t talked to them since they unfollowed her on social media, after she posted her first photo as a trans woman.

        Instead of going home to Kawasaki and facing rejection, Kaede decided to rent an apartment in Yokohama and start anew on her own. Kawasaki and Yokohama were neighboring cities, but it was highly unlikely she would bump into her parents.

        “No,” Kaede said. “I haven’t.”

        “So what are you going to do?”

        “I don’t know yet.”

        “Aren’t you looking for a job?”

        “I majored in gender studies.” Kaede frowned. “Not a very marketable degree in Japan.”

        Yuki was quiet after that, and Kaede watched the dark-suited salarymen rush to-and-fro, lost in their thoughts.

        “You should come shopping with me, Kaede!” The sudden shock of joy in Yuki’s voice surprised Kaede.

        Kaede tore the wrapper from her paper cup. “Shopping? Can I take a rain check? I’m feeling a bit under the weather.”

        Kaede usually shopped online. No one could judge her in the privacy of her own room.

        She would spend hours browsing sailor suits at online retailers her friend Toru told her about, but she hadn’t mustered the courage to buy one. For one thing, ordering women’s clothes online was rife with complications. She’d ordered frilled panties size XL, but Amazon sent her size M instead. Even extra large didn’t fit her well, leaving her testicles partially exposed. Giving up bikinis and briefs, she had to be content with granny panties. After all, women’s underwear wasn’t designed for someone like her.

        Toru had made sure she understood that the last time they chatted online.

        Toru cross-dressed every weekend. His feed showed photos of a tall, heavily made-up man in a curly blonde wig and a black Lolita dress. Even so, he didn’t consider himself a member of the LGBTQ+ community. Glued to a rigid system of rules on cross-dressing, Toru seemed to look down on Kaede, chastising her for her sloppy makeup.

        Learn to apply makeup properly before you go out in drag.

        “Fine,” Yuki told her now, waving off Kaede’s apologies. “We’ll go some other time. I hope you feel better soon, Kaede.”

        Kaede met another nice elderly lady as she walked back to her apartment. The woman was small, back bent with age, but her voice

was spirited.

        “I’ll cross the street with you,” she insisted, glancing at Kaede’s cane. “This traffic light turns red really fast.”

        “That’s very kind of you.” A warm feeling of gratitude spread through Kaede’s chest.

        There were so many kind people in Japan. Yet, the regressive laws forced anyone who wished to change their gender to go through surgical sterilization. Kaede flinched, imagining herself strapped to an operating table against her will.

        These thoughts, along with thoughts of Yuki and Toru, swam around inside her head, followed by sailor suits and shopping.

        Kaede was too nervous to shop with Yuki, but a few blocks away from her apartment, she forced herself to stop in a small boutique that didn’t appear too crowded.

        She’d visited clothing retailers before, but she never felt completely comfortable going into fitting rooms. Sometimes clerks followed her, perhaps suspecting her of being a shoplifter. She winced every time laughter erupted around her, remembering how she had been a frequent target of derision as a teenager.

        She was determined, though, to make up for the girlhood that eluded her years ago. She decided it didn’t matter how she would look in the sailor fuku. Luckily, Halloween was around the corner. If she bombed, she might even get a few laughs. Cross-dressing was often the butt of jokes on Japanese TV, after all.

        “Irasshaimase!” uniformed clerks chirped as Kaede entered the shop. They stuck to their employee manual and never deviated from the phrases they learned by heart.

        Kaede took her time walking up and down the aisles. She didn’t allow herself to hurry or be hurried. She threw a new blouse in her shopping basket after checking the tag for its size, and then she found lush lace-trimmed petticoats. Her basket was nearly full when she spotted the sailor fuku. The soft blue color, the luxurious fabric, the golden buttons on the sleeves. Heart racing, palms sweaty, Kaede frantically hunted for her size. Her heart skipped a beat when she found what she was looking for.

        “Could you please remove the price tags?” Kaede asked as she placed her shopping basket in front of the young woman behind the checkout counter.

        “Yes, certainly.” The young woman complied in a polite manner, face blank.

        To Kaede’s surprise, almost every shopper paid by flashing QR codes on their phones. Being somewhat of a technophobe herself, she smarted with envy as a group of schoolgirls in their sailor fuku paid for cute sweaters and skirts that would never fit her.

        When Kaede arrived home, she unfolded her sailor fuku with trembling hands, laid it out on the bed, and stared at it for a long while. She then hugged it against her chest for a few seconds. The blue was somewhat darker in her dimly lit apartment, but it hardly mattered. She put it on in front of her full-length mirror.

        The sailor fuku fit, except the skirt was tight at the waist. The zipper didn’t close all the way either, but perhaps no one would notice.

        The following Saturday morning, Kaede’s phone rang. Even without looking at the screen, she knew it was Yuki.

        “Kaede, you can’t keep rain-checking me,” Yuki said in mock anger.

        “Alright then.” Kaede sighed, resigned.

        They agreed to meet at Kawasaki Station that afternoon.

        “Is that for Halloween, Kaede?” Yuki asked with a smile when they spotted each other among a moving throng of people going in all directions. “Aren’t you a bit too old to wear sailor fuku?” Yuki teased Kaede.

        Kaede gave a noncommittal shrug.

        “What does that mean?” Yuki locked her arm with Kaede’s, and they angled themselves through Lazona Kawasaki Plaza’s teeming crowd.

        “Where’s your costume?” Kaede asked.

        It was Yuki’s turn to shrug.

        “You look good,” Yuki said, her voice playful. “I didn’t know you had a fetish for school uniforms.”

        “Thanks,” Kaede said, ignoring Yuki’s insult.

        “I think I still have mine in a closet somewhere. You should’ve told me. I could’ve given it to you.

        “I have an idea.” Yuki took Kaede’s hand, led her to a bench, and grabbed her makeup kit from her bag.

        Yuki began with Kaede’s eye makeup. As Yuki’s brush tickled Kaede’s skin, Kaede felt pampered like a princess.

        “Look up,” Yuki said as she added black eyeliner. She proceeded to apply concealer and foundation. Kaede shivered at the cold glide of lipstick.

        “Do this,” Yuki said and pursed her lips. “You want to spread the lipstick.” Kaede pouted, feeling self-conscious.

        “There you go,” Yuki said. “Let me take a picture of you.” Yuki took out her phone and snapped a shot. “See how pretty you are.”

        Her transformation stunned Kaede. She thought herself pretty, even beautiful, for the first time in her life.

        “That was fun, wasn’t it? We should do this again.”

        Kaede nodded, tears of joy blurring her vision.

        “I hope you’re hungry, Kaede, because I’m starving. Let’s go and grab something to eat. Is Italian all right with you?”

        “I’ll race you,” Kaede said and stood before Yuki did.

        They rushed toward the elevator like children. Yuki overtook Kaede and pressed the button with a triumphant air.

        “I’ll beat you every time, Kaede.” Yuki smiled as Kaede caught her breath.

        Fifteen seconds later, the elevator doors dinged opened and spat out a flood of people. Kaede froze when she saw her parents among the exodus. Her parents exchanged glances, and their coldness toward her, and toward each other, chilled Kaede’s heart. Her mother met Kaede’s gaze for a moment before both women looked away. Yuki partially opened her mouth, but she closed it without saying anything. She gave Kaede’s arm a gentle squeeze as the elevator swallowed them and carried them upward.

        Her parents’ silent rebuke stung Kaede, but her pain slowly melted as she contemplated her reflection in the mirrored elevator walls. She no longer needed to abide by her parents’ rules. She was free. She smiled and squeezed Yuki back.