You Shouldn't Have Laughed

### Chapter Two: You Shouldn't Have Laughed

Kintaro Ozan awoke to the soft, golden rays of the sun filtering through the paper screens of his small room. The village of Jiro was just beginning to stir. Birds sang melodious tunes, and the gentle rustling of leaves in the cool morning breeze added to the serene atmosphere. The village was known for its lush greenery and vibrant life. Fields of rice and vegetables spread out in neat rows, and the unique blue-leafed trees swayed gently, casting sapphire shadows on the ground.

Kintaro dressed quickly in his plain, yet clean, servant's attire. His duties began early. As he stepped outside, the earthy scent of dew-covered soil greeted him. The villagers were starting their day, and many acknowledged him with polite nods or brief words of greeting. Despite his lowly position, Kintaro was a familiar face in Jiro, known to be the servant of the most respected and wealthy family in the village.

He made his way to the market, a lively place filled with the chatter of vendors and buyers. Stalls overflowed with fresh produce, meats, and an array of goods. As he navigated through the crowd, people often stopped him.

"Good morning, Kintaro. How's your master?" an elderly woman inquired, her eyes filled with curiosity.

"He's well, thank you for asking," Kintaro replied with a respectful bow, his purple eyes sparkling with warmth.

"That's good to hear. It's been a while since we last saw him. Always busy, isn't he?" another man commented, his tone a mix of admiration and respect.

Kintaro nodded, offering a polite smile. "Yes, indeed. He values his privacy and spends much of his time managing affairs."

The master's identity was shrouded in a bit of mystery, contributing to the villagers' intrigue and respect. They knew he was a man of great influence and wealth, but his reclusive nature only added to his enigmatic presence.

With his shopping completed, Kintaro headed back, the path lined with the unique blue-leafed trees that seemed almost ethereal in the morning light. He could hear the distant sound of children playing and the rhythmic thudding of a blacksmith's hammer, adding a comforting rhythm to the village's pulse.

Back at the grand house, Kintaro's duties continued. He began preparing breakfast for the household. The kitchen was spacious and well-equipped, a testament to the family's wealth. He moved efficiently, cooking rice, grilling fish, and preparing miso soup. The aroma of the meal filled the air, signaling the start of another day.

The master's wife, a graceful woman with kind eyes, entered the kitchen with their three children trailing behind her. They were a lively bunch, full of energy and curiosity.

"Good morning, Kintaro," she greeted warmly. "Thank you for always taking such good care of us."

"It's my pleasure, ma'am," Kintaro responded with a bow, his tone humble yet sincere.

After serving breakfast, Kintaro cleaned up and moved to the training hall. It was a spacious room, filled with an assortment of wooden and real swords, each meticulously cared for. The hall was a place of discipline and learning, where the village children trained in the art of swordsmanship under the strict guidance of their sensei.

The children, dressed in their white training uniforms, filed in, chatting animatedly. Kintaro observed them as he cleaned, his mind drifting to the rigorous routines they would soon endure. The sensei entered, a stern man with a presence that demanded respect. His eyes were sharp, missing nothing.

"Line up!" he commanded, his voice echoing through the hall.

The children quickly fell silent, forming neat rows. Kintaro took his place at the back, his role to observe and ensure the training hall remained in pristine condition.

The sensei began the session with a series of warm-up exercises, his movements precise and fluid. The children followed suit, their expressions serious. Kintaro watched, noting the varying levels of skill and dedication among the students.

As the session progressed, the exercises became more intense. The sound of wooden swords clashing filled the air, punctuated by the children's grunts and the sensei's sharp commands. Kintaro couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy. Despite his disdain for the mundanity of the exercises, he longed to wield a sword and test his own abilities.

A sparring match began, and one boy, a bit clumsy and slower than the others, tripped and fell. The hall fell silent, and before he could stop himself, Kintaro let out a small laugh. It was an innocent reaction, a fleeting moment of amusement, but it echoed in the quiet hall like a thunderclap.

The sensei's head snapped towards him, eyes blazing with disapproval. "Kintaro! Step forward."

Kintaro's heart sank. He stood, walking to the front with hesitant steps. The sensei's gaze bore into him, cold and unyielding.

"Explain your laughter," the sensei demanded.

Kintaro looked around, his mind racing for an explanation. But the stern faces of the other students and the intense scrutiny of the sensei left him speechless.

"Very well," the sensei said, his voice dangerously calm. "If you find this so amusing, perhaps you should join us. Pick up a sword."

Kintaro's eyes widened in surprise. He had never expected it to come to this. Reluctantly, he picked up a wooden sword, its weight unfamiliar in his hands.

"You will spar with the boy you laughed at," the sensei ordered.

The boy Kintaro had laughed at stepped forward, his face a mixture of anger and determination. He gripped his wooden sword tightly, ready to prove himself. The other students watched intently, their expressions a mix of curiosity and anticipation.

Kintaro felt a wave of regret. He hadn't meant to mock the boy, and now he was forced into a situation he had always avoided. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves.

As they faced each other, the sensei's voice cut through the tension. "Begin!"

Kintaro raised his sword, feeling the eyes of everyone in the hall on him. He could sense the boy's anger, his desire to regain his honor. The other students watched in silence, the atmosphere thick with anticipation.

The sparring match was about to begin, and Kintaro knew there was no turning back.