Mei stood before her family's car, waiting. After a moment, she walked briskly around the front to the driver's side window and peered inside.
Although her previous driver had informed her of the change that morning, seeing a complete stranger behind the wheel still brought a pang of disappointment.
Her former driver had been perfect. Beyond his impeccable driving skills, he often chatted with her on the way home. Initially awkward, she'd grown to cherish that feeling of genuine concern. She also appreciated his impeccable manners, respectful yet not subservient.
Perhaps his competence was why her father had promoted him.
Unlike this new one… What was he doing? Blocking the school gate, leaning back in his seat with his eyes closed, listening to music?
"Ahem!" Mei coughed loudly. The soundproof glass seemed effective; the new driver didn't react.
"Tap, tap, tap!" She rapped sharply on the window. The vibrations finally roused him. He blinked, rubbing his silver-gray hair, slowly removing his earbuds, and then turned to look at her.
Even after seeing her, he made no move to get out. He simply gave her a thumbs-up and gestured towards the back seat.
"You…" This was outrageous behavior for a hired driver. He acted as if it wasn't the Raiden family car, as if he wasn't employed by the Raiden family… more like a taxi driver.
No, even taxi drivers were more courteous.
"Honestly, where did Father find this driver?" Mei was exasperated. She hadn't encountered such disrespect before. She didn't move towards the back seat. Normally, she would, but now it would feel like obeying his instructions.
Lips pressed together, she marched to the other side, yanked open the passenger door, and sat down.
"Slam!" The car shook as the door closed, her schoolbag flying from her lap to the back seat, carrying her resentment.
"Let's go, what are you waiting for?" She snapped. The driver didn't react, not even starting the engine.
"What now?" She turned, finding him looking at her.
"What? Can't I sit in the front?" Without the window separating them, his features were clearer. Mei was surprised; he looked barely older than her. She almost asked for his license. Her tone softened slightly.
"He" didn't speak, only pointed at her with a sleepy-eyed droop, then gestured behind her.
"Oh." As Mei fastened her seatbelt, the car started.
"Allow me to introduce myself, Lady Raiden. I'm Michael. From today onwards, I'm your designated chauffeur."
Mei's lips twitched. He addressed her correctly, yet the lack of any honorific felt… wrong.
She glanced at him. He seemed unconcerned by her silence, releasing the handbrake.
"Wait!" Mei quickly re-engaged the handbrake, her face flushing. "You! Are you really my father's driver?!"
"Yup! Why?" Seemingly anticipating her disbelief, Michael pulled out a complete employment contract from the door compartment. Name, photo—everything matched.
"See? Believe me now? I can even show you the text messages from your father."
Mei sighed, struggling to articulate her thoughts. Finally, she mimicked his earlier gesture, pointing at him and then behind him.
"Not that, I mean… as a driver, shouldn't you be wearing a seatbelt?"
"…" Silence filled the car, broken only by the low hum of the engine, oddly stifling in the early winter chill.
"Ahem!" Michael coughed, quickly buckling his seatbelt. "Just an oversight."
He gripped the steering wheel, tapping his fingers rhythmically. "Where to next? I heard you usually go to… uh, Homu Dojo for training?"
Seeing him finally act somewhat professionally, Mei relaxed, though she was already plotting his dismissal. Perhaps he was someone's connection… Why didn't Father vet him properly…?
She glanced at the setting sun. Even with the shorter winter days, it was almost 5 pm. Ten minutes to the dojo, half an hour of training, then rush hour traffic… would she even be home by 7?
"Maybe… skip it today?" The thought was immediately dismissed.
"No, I can't slack off. A day without kendo practice sets me back ten days. And…" She glanced at Michael, a smirk playing on her lips.
She hadn't expected him to be proactive. "Well, my lady, have you decided? Where are we going?"
"You… to Homu Dojo!"
Michael scoffed. "A serious dojo named after Homu? Sounds like a place for toddlers…"
Mei's face flushed crimson. She slammed her hand on the armrest. "Just drive!"
Seeing her temper flare, Michael's teasing subsided slightly. However, his next question was even more infuriating.
"So, how do I get to Homu Dojo?"
"AAAAAHHH!!! I'm telling Father to fire you!!!"
…
"…There really is a Homu Dojo… That game's really popular, huh…" Michael parked, staring at the glittering sign: Homu Dojo.
A giant Homu statue stood at the entrance, devoid of any martial solemnity. Without the "Dojo" part, it would pass for a children's playground.
He glanced around. The street was deserted, save for a few elderly people returning from grocery shopping. The dojo was located on the edge of Nagazora City, between the urban and suburban areas. This used to be the old city center, mostly inhabited by elderly residents reluctant to move. But elderly people had grandchildren… so a dojo here wasn't entirely illogical.
He unbuckled his seatbelt, about to get out, when Mei stopped him.
"What now, my lady?" Michael's voice was flat. Mei's cheek twitched. "First, you don't have to call me 'my lady.' Second… put this on."
She pulled a mask from the glove compartment. While he stared blankly, she covered her lower face, quickly tied her hair back, and put on a baseball cap.
"What's… the point?"
Mei glared. "You don't have to wear it. If you don't mind the embarrassment."
Now it was Michael's turn to be speechless. "Seriously, my lady, even you think it's childish…"
Before he could finish, Mei jumped out and slammed the door.
Michael chuckled, tossing the mask back into the glove compartment before stepping out.
Locking the car, he joined Mei, who was searching for the dojo key. She didn't comment on his lack of a mask.
Moments later, the dojo doors opened. Contrary to Michael's expectations, it was surprisingly simple, a single room and a courtyard.
As they entered, no one greeted them. Only a flock of crows, startled by their arrival, took flight, circling overhead, hesitant to land yet unsure where else to go.
"No one's here?" Michael could hear only their two heartbeats.
"No one again? Sigh…" Mei switched on the lights, illuminating the dim room, and began putting on her kendo armor.
"Again? Meaning this happens often? I wanted to ask, Mei Raiden, if you find this place childish and empty, why not find a different dojo? Even sparring with your classmates would be better than solo practice here."
Mei continued dressing, ignoring the name issue. As soon as she got home, she was telling her father to fire this disrespectful, geographically challenged driver who needed GPS for a ten-minute drive and took twenty! But before firing him, she'd make him suffer a bit.
Normally, the driver would wait in the car. But to make Michael suffer, she hadn't stopped him from following her inside.
"Is it that strange? I've been coming here since I was little. Father, despite being a kendo master, was always busy with work. Dinner at home was a rare treat, let alone kendo lessons. So he entrusted me to this dojo."
"Thinking back, it is odd. Even a small dojo shouldn't be this empty, aside from me and… the Homu Swordsman. But I was a child. I believed Homu existed, that I was learning from a Homu. And somehow, I mastered the Raiden family's Hokushin Ittō-ryū here. It's quite laughable now."
"Hmm, so this Homu Swordsman was a long-lost relative in disguise?"
"…Are you always this humorous?" Mei tossed a set of armor at Michael.
"This is…?"
"As I grew older, the Homu Swordsman appeared less and less. Even without a worthy opponent, I wouldn't lower myself to spar with those who haven't even earned a dan rank. But today's different. We have a second person here. I know my father's drivers also act as bodyguards. You've proven your driving skills are… lacking. If you want to keep your job, show me your bodyguard skills."
Michael tilted his head, kicking the heavy armor aside and grabbing a shinai from a rack. "Look, I'm just desperate. Down on my luck. Selling my services to survive."
Mei didn't buy it. "Oh? How desperate? How down on your luck?"
"It's alright now. My wife's dead. Daughter too. Just me to feed now." Michael shrugged, looking at the ceiling.
His demeanor, tone, and words betrayed no grief. Besides…
"How old are you, talking about wives and daughters? Work on your lies next time!"
Michael just smiled, offering no defense.
Mei didn't bother pressing further. Glancing at the discarded armor, she warned, "No armor? These shinai hurt. You might even bleed."
"I'm well aware. Armor is too much hassle to put on and take off. Not my style."
Mei's already low opinion of him sank further. Since he was so stubborn, she'd done her duty to warn him. Let him suffer.
She put on her men helmet. The metal grill obscured her vision somewhat. As she'd mentioned, the Homu Swordsman hadn't appeared in years, so the armor felt restrictive.
But it didn't matter. She was confident in her menkyo kaiden skills. More than enough to deal with someone barely older than her.
They both adopted chūdan-no-kamae. Mei wasn't careless this time. She cautiously probed with her shinai, but Michael stood motionless, like a complete novice.
Seeing this, Mei lunged, executing a left kesa-giri.
First, bait him into blocking left, then exploit the opening on his right.
The feint was classic, but effective.
Unexpectedly, Michael didn't block. He stepped forward, their shinai barely touching before he retreated, maintaining zanshin.
Mei froze mid-swing, stunned.
"Next time you feint with a kesa-giri, try stepping forward. At that distance, I could let you swing and you still wouldn't hit me. Didn't the Homu Sword Saint teach you that? Or is Hokushin Ittō-ryū all talk?"
"Hmph…" Mei exhaled, resuming chūdan. "I admit I underestimated you. I'll be serious now."
"One-zero. Oh, since it's a match, how many points to win?"
"Three, of course!" Mei lunged forward unexpectedly. Having misjudged him, she resorted to less honorable tactics to regain the point.
But Michael retreated simultaneously. As her shinai rose, he flicked his wrist, his shinai striking the back of her hand. Two-zero.
"How about it? Two points. We done?"
Te no uchi… Mei gripped her shinai tightly, stepping back.
If the first exchange was due to her underestimation, this second one shattered any illusions. Even if Michael didn't know kendo, he clearly knew how to use a sword. That technique… he was an expert.
The metal grill hid her expression, though her mix of anger and frustration was probably obvious to him.
"No count!" she suddenly shouted.
"Huh?"
Mei placed a hand on her hip, blatantly defying him. "That was just a warm-up! We agreed on three points after that, didn't we?"
You're acting like a child! Michael thought, biting back the words.
Mei resumed chūdan. Michael, unusually, stepped forward with his left foot, right foot back, shinai raised diagonally—hassō-no-kamae.
Mei's eyes narrowed. "You've studied kendo seriously?"
Hassō-no-kamae was a battlefield stance, rarely used in modern kendo. Someone with only superficial knowledge wouldn't even know it.
Michael chuckled and shook his head. "Not really. Just a friend who was devoted to kendo. I picked up some things watching her morning practice."
"Tch! Are you mocking me?" Pick up some things? Was he implying that casually observed scraps were superior to her menkyo kaiden?
Mei controlled her breathing, her heart pounding. She was angry, but not reckless, carefully maneuvering, searching for an opening.
"Oh? Not bad. Staying calm under pressure. Very good." Perhaps Michael's praise was genuine, but to Mei, it sounded condescending.
Her search for a weakness proved futile. Hassō-no-kamae was rarely used precisely because it exposed the center of the body. Michael's weakness was obvious.
Or perhaps… he was baiting her to attack.
"Whatever! I'll risk it!" She charged forward, thrusting her shinai.
Her speed was unprecedented. Michael seemed unable to react, only bringing his shinai up to block as he retreated his left foot.
Exactly as Mei had planned. She wasn't aiming for a direct hit, nor a feint. She continued forward, closing the distance.
Against a larger, stronger opponent, close combat was usually a bad idea. But this was Mei's only chance: debana-waza, a counterattack before the opponent's attack is fully completed.
Unfortunately, she wasn't the only one thinking that.
The moment their arms touched, Michael's wrist flicked, deflecting her shinai. Then, capitalizing on her momentary shock, he slammed the pommel of his shinai into her collarbone, his body sliding back as his shinai thrust forward—
"Slap!"