Keiko stripped off her sweaty kendo uniform, tossed it onto the tatami mat, and swiftly changed into her light blue dress. Combing through her long hair, she picked out fluff and fiber from the fletching of her arrows.

Before leaving her room, Keiko sniffed her armpits and grimaced. “Not good, but so late! So late!”

She hopped out of her window and slid off of the tile roof, landing softly near her mother’s wisterias. Looking through the orange light of the kitchen window, she saw her tiny mama hunched over, chopping vegetables and raw beef strips for sukiyaki, Keiko’s favorite summertime dish.

“Bye mama, save me some for later!” Keiko shouted.

“Keiko?” her mother called and slammed her cleaver into the cutting board. “Where are you going?”

“I have a meeting with my friend!”

“A meeting? But it’s dinnertime!”

“Papa says it was ok, gotta go!”

“Keiko!”

Keiko jogged from her back gate down the muddy path leading through her neighbour’s rice paddy, asking for father’s forgiveness under her breath. Mother was almost certainly coming after the Fire-Breather with her cleaver now.

Drought and wildfires were typical around August in Kami-machi, however, the summer had been blessed with bountiful rain. Good for the harvest, but with rain came the hot, sticky humidity that turned her armpits to swamps. She wondered how Naohiro would react when he caught scent of his date. The son of a local governor, Nao was likely not used to girls like her. He waited for her at the end of the rice paddy, smoking a cigarette. She still had it in her to run, but Keiko slowed to a walk, pretending to be the fetching, elegant girl that she wasn’t.

Upon seeing Keiko, he smiled, brushed his bangs out of his eyes, and cooly flicked his cigarette into the paddy. “You came, finally! I was starting to worry you’d been grounded or something.”

She giggled, though nothing he said struck her as particularly witty. Girls were meant to giggle at their dates, weren’t they?

“My dad and sister made me go to practice today. They're so tireless.”

“I don't know which one of them's scarier.”

After some contemplation, they came to a verdict in unison: “Sister.”

Laughing like drunkards, they headed to the Yamamatsu Family Restaurant, a popular hangout for the Kami youth. Nao bought both of them kakigori, a dessert made from syrup and shaved ice. She savored the sweetness as it melted on her tongue. If she were alone, she would’ve shoveled the kakigori into her maw so fast it gave her a headache. She stared into Nao’s big, brown eyes and went dumb. Such a handsome face… it was no wonder all of the girls in school liked him. He had to be stupid, though. Why else would he have picked her out of the bunch.

“Excuse me,” a strange, deep voice called from behind.

Keiko jumped in her skin, made a frightened squeak, and spun around. Behind her was the first foreigner she had ever seen in the flesh, most likely the first non-Japanese person to ever come to Kami, a Caucasian man in a rice hat. He had dirty, freckled skin, long, flowing hair, a thin, black beard, and no shoes. A huge nodachi greatsword in a bamboo scabbard stuck out of his sash.

“I'm sorry, mister! I didn't mean-- ” she stammered.

“No, it was my fault. Shitsureishimashita,” the stranger said. He had a strange accent, but she was able to understand. It seemed peculiar for a foreigner to speak Japanese.

“My name is Drake. I am a travelling swordsman in search of a great samurai, Master Kenshin, ‘The Fire-Breathing Dragon’. Do you know of him?”

Keiko couldn’t contain a chuckle over his ultra-polite tone of voice. “Of course. He’s my father.”

The stranger bowed deeply, as if he’d committed some grave transgression. “Ah, the master's daughter. Please, don’t be concerned. I simply request a friendly match.”

“Don’t tell him anything,” Nao whispered in Keiko’s ear. “This gaijin creeps me out.”

“We live close by, next to the river,” Keiko said, jabbing Nao in the gut. “We’ll take you to see him.”

“We will?” Nao scoffed.

It had been ages since Keiko had seen her father duel anyone. And she was sure that Rin would relish the chance to watch European sword techniques in real life. Plus, there was something about this man that was very attractive to her. His manly smell, perhaps?

“You’re being rude!” she hissed at her date. She had almost forgotten he was there. Whatever. She could find another pampered boy anywhere. Drake was something else, like another species of human. Keiko had to find out more.

Drake smiled at her. Did all white men have such pronounced canines?

“Thank you, child.”

After leaving Yamamatsu Restaurant, Nao stuck around to make sure that Keiko was alright, but Drake was no threat. He walked in silent meditation, like a true warrior out of legend. He’d have to be mentally prepared to face the Fire-Breather. Keiko wanted to ask him a million questions about life outside Japan, but stopped herself. She’d pester him after the duel.

Before they reached her house, Nao excused himself, citing an upset stomach, and scampered home. Why did they always run away? Was her family that scary? Shouganai, it couldn’t be helped. Actually, it was probably never meant to be.

Inside, Keiko’s father’s students were wrapping up their practice. While they packed their things for the day, they looked on with curious expressions as Keiko strolled in with her tall, bearded foreigner. “Papa, I met someone in town,” Keiko began.

Kenshin and Rin turned around. Kenshin’s eyes bulged with a cocktail of anger, confusion, and surprise upon seeing the tall man next to his daughter.

“Kei-chan, don’t tell me this is your bo-- ”

“He’s not my boyfriend!”

The words sent him back, a brutal riposte. Too brutal, and definitely not very fetching or elegant. Her forehead burned with embarrassment. Her papa raised his hands in surrender.

Acting like he didn’t hear the exchange, Drake knelt before her father, and lowered his forehead into the dirt. “Master Kiryuu, my name is Drake. I have travelled a long way in search of great swordsmen. On my quest, many have told me of the skill of Northern Japan’s Fire-Breathing Dragon. Would you do me the honour of facing me in a friendly duel?”

Her father chucked. “Get up! On your feet. Of course, I'll face you! A dragon never backs down from a challenge, least of all from a tourist.”

The students cheered on their sensei’s bold declaration. The one exception was Rin. She stood to the side, arms folded, looking cross. Rin was never one to show much emotion but Keiko was surprised, and a little disappointed, that her lucky find did little to impress her sister.

Drake stood. “Arigatou gozaimasu, Kenshin-sama. I'll try not to disappoint you.”

“Are you, by chance, interested in training here? I had heard Gaikokujin can have deep pockets, though you seem...”

“I’ll decide after we see the outcome.”

Father nodded. At least he seemed impressed by the man. “Since we’re both big men, why don’t we use the wooden blades?”

Everyone in the dojo knew from experience how badly it hurt being hit by one of those hefty bastards, and Keiko cringed a little with the thought.

“I prefer steel,” Drake said, tapping his nodachi, “but as they say in the West: Your house, your rules.”

“Kei-chan! Fetch me my bokken, and give our new friend one as well!”

Rin sighed. “How many of these fools must you entertain?”

Keiko stomped towards her. “Don't be rude, sis!”

Father turned to Rin with a stern expression. “Your sister is right. He has shown respect. You ought to follow suit.”

“It’s alright, really,” Drake said.

The poor soul, getting caught between her family’s constantly warring sides. This was exactly why they all tucked their tail between their legs when she invited them over. Keiko wanted to bury her head in the dirt.

Her father seemed too fiery towards Rin to hear Drake’s interjection. “I thought you wanted to see the world’s swordmasters in action!”

“He’s dressed in rags,” Rin said. “If he’s a swordmaster, I’m a Chinese princess.”

Father took Drake’s hand. “I'm sorry about my daughter. She has my fire in her guts, that's for sure! Nihongo jouzu! How is it you speak our language so well?”

While they talked, Keiko went to one of the practice sword racks and brought two wooden swords to the soon-to-be combatants. As she passed Kenshin the sword, Keiko stared in her father’s face and saw that thing that made his opponents of old tremble: his unwavering confidence. But Drake kept his cool. Upon receiving his bokken from her, Drake twirled the sword around in an impressive flourish beside her shoulders. He flashed his canines, once more, so long and sharp they almost reached past his bottom lip. Keiko’s heart fluttered.

Father stepped towards Drake. “Impressive. Shall we begin?”

“As soon as you’re-- ”

Without warning, her father swung first.