The jet touched down in Tokyo to the sound of camera shutters and security briefings I immediately ignored.
"Don't cause a diplomatic incident," Janet had said. Repeatedly. All the way from D.C. to Narita.
"I'll be chill," I'd promised, sipping sake on the plane. "Just two presidents bonding over sushi and strategy."
Turns out, Japan's Prime Minister, Hoshino, was nothing like I expected. He greeted me with a fist bump, a wide grin, and the energy of someone who'd just escaped a summit full of stiff suits.
"You're not what I thought an American president would be," he said.
"You're not what I thought a world leader would be," I replied.
We were instantly best friends.
---
The first day was... structured. Speeches, translators, strategic photo ops.
The second day? Chaos.
It started with Hoshino inviting me to a local arcade "to unwind." I thought it was a joke. He wasn't joking.
Two hours later, there was footage of the U.S. President trying to beat the Japanese Prime Minister at Dance Dance Revolution. I slipped. Twice. Hoshino laughed so hard he fell off the platform.
By evening, we were on the street sharing yakitori with a crowd of cheering teenagers.
---
"You're trending in six countries," Janet said in my earpiece. "This is a disaster."
"What do you mean? We're bonding!"
"You said 'trade deal' and 'Gundam' in the same sentence on live television!"
"Gundams are cool."
"I swear to God, Blake, if you crash the yen—"
But I didn't. Somehow, I did the opposite.
Hoshino casually mentioned their new semiconductor surplus. I casually mentioned America's push for greener tech. Over sake bombs, we sketched out a hybrid trade framework on a napkin that somehow got formalized by our aides.
Then South Korea called. Then Indonesia. Then Vietnam.
By the end of the trip, I had signed provisional deals with half of Asia.
Trade routes. Digital infrastructure partnerships. Cultural exchange programs. All based on impromptu handshakes, ramen-fueled discussions, and a viral clip of me attempting karaoke at a Japanese bar.
---
Back home, the press went feral.
One headline read:
"American President or Anime Side Character? The Global Fallout of Blake's Japan Tour"
Another:
"He Dabs, They Deal: How Blake Tennyson Rewrote Diplomacy with Vibes"
World leaders were less amused.
France called it "an insult to protocol."
China accused us of "regional destabilization via clownery."
The UK Prime Minister reportedly threw a teacup during his morning briefing.
---
In the White House, Janet was losing it.
"You juggled oranges with the Thai trade minister."
"He juggled first! I was being respectful."
"You fist-bumped a prince."
"He initiated!"
"You called the economic summit 'a brunch with PowerPoints.'"
"I was being honest!"
She buried her face in her hands. "You've offended half the G20 and made the other half question their own relevance."
"And yet," Josh chimed in, holding up his phone, "public approval is at 78%. Asian markets are rallying. Our exports just tripled."
Janet groaned. "That's the problem. He's too effective at being unserious."
---
I didn't mean to be a revolution. I wasn't trying to dismantle global diplomacy with memes and good vibes. I just… liked people. I talked to them. Listened. Joked. Said what made sense instead of what sounded diplomatic.
Was that unprofessional? Probably.
Was it working? Apparently.
---
That night, in my private quarters, I scrolled through a highlight reel someone edited of my trip. Me high-fiving kids in Osaka. Me laughing with Hoshino over bad sushi puns. Me tripping into a koi pond and apologizing to the fish.
The caption read:
"When your president is a golden retriever but also a trade genius."
I didn't know whether to be flattered or deeply concerned.
---
Janet barged in.
"Next week's schedule," she said, dropping a folder on the table. "The UN wants a statement. NATO wants an explanation. And Canada… just sent a strongly worded maple-scented letter."
"What's the worst that could happen?" I smiled.
She stared. "You'll find out."