First Time Wielding the Wooden Sword

### Chapter Three: First Time Wielding the Wooden Sword

Kintaro Ozan stood still, staring at the wooden sword in his hand. The texture of the polished wood felt strange yet comforting against his calloused palms. He turned it right and left, feeling the unfamiliar weight and balance. It was surprisingly light, fitting perfectly in his grip. His mind raced with thoughts and emotions. This was the first time he had held a sword, even a wooden one. He hadn't expected it to feel so... right. The polished wooden floor beneath his feet creaked slightly as he adjusted his stance, the subtle sound blending with the muted whispers of the watching students.

He looked down at his plain servant's attire—simple, beige, and practical, designed for ease of movement and durability. His outfit was in stark contrast to the crisp white training uniforms of the other students. His opponent, a boy of the same age, was dressed impeccably, the uniform accentuating his determined stance. The boy's expression was one of focused anger, a sharp contrast to Kintaro's mixed feelings of curiosity and unease.

The students surrounding them in the training hall watched with eager anticipation. The sunlight streaming through the open windows cast long shadows on the tatami mats, highlighting the tension in the air. Many whispered among themselves, convinced that Kintaro, the servant, would be easily defeated. Their faces showed a mixture of pity and disdain, reflecting their preconceived notions about his abilities.

The sensei's voice broke the tension. "Begin!"

The boy lunged forward with a fierce attack, his movements sharp and aggressive. Kintaro instinctively dodged, the wooden floor beneath him feeling solid yet responsive to his swift movements. The movements felt natural, almost as if he had done this a thousand times before. His opponent's attacks were aggressive but predictable. Kintaro could see every move before it happened, allowing him to evade effortlessly. The more he dodged, the more frustrated the boy became. The room echoed with the sound of feet shuffling and the wooden swords clashing.

"Stay still, you coward!" the boy shouted, his face red with anger. His voice was hoarse, filled with frustration and desperation.

But Kintaro couldn't help it. His eyes tracked every motion, his body responding with fluid precision. He felt a strange sense of clarity, as if time had slowed down. The other students watched in stunned silence, their previous certainty of Kintaro's defeat slowly waning. Their whispers turned to gasps as they witnessed his unexpected agility.

As the boy's attacks grew more desperate and erratic, Kintaro began to parry and block. His wooden sword moved almost of its own accord, deflecting blows and striking back with increasing confidence. The hall echoed with the sounds of clashing wood and heavy breathing. The scent of sweat and the faint tang of dust filled the air, heightening the intensity of the moment.

The sensei, seeing the boy struggling and nearing his limit, intervened. "Enough!" he commanded, stepping between them. The boy stepped back, panting and glaring at Kintaro.

"What are you doing? You're fighting a servant, don't you feel ashamed?" the sensei said to the boy, his voice cold. "Strength alone is not enough." He turned to Kintaro. "You will now face a more skilled opponent."

One of the older students, a tall and muscular boy, stepped forward. His presence was intimidating, and his eyes held a steely determination. He was one of the sensei's best students, known for his speed and strength. The room seemed to hold its breath as he took his position, the air thick with anticipation.

"Show him the difference between a servant and a true swordsman," the sensei ordered.

The older student nodded, his expression serious. He took his stance, and Kintaro readied himself. This time, the attacks came faster and harder. Kintaro found himself on the defensive, his reflexes tested to their limits. But still, he managed to block and parry each strike, his body moving with a grace he didn't know he possessed.

The older student grew increasingly frustrated. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't break through Kintaro's defense. The other students watched in disbelief, their eyes wide with shock. Even the sensei seemed taken aback.

"Use it," the sensei finally said, his voice laced with anger and disbelief. He nodded to the older student, who then took a deep breath, his eyes narrowing.

The older student began to breathe in a controlled, rhythmic pattern. "Dust Breathing, First Form: Sandstorm!"

A whirlwind of dust enveloped Kintaro, blinding him and disorienting his senses. He could barely see, barely breathe, as the sandstorm surrounded him. The world around him became a blur of swirling particles, each grain of dust stinging his skin. Panic started to rise, but he forced himself to stay calm, to focus.

From within the swirling dust, he felt a presence—his opponent, moving in for the strike. Kintaro's instincts took over. Without thinking, he moved, his body reacting faster than his mind could process. In a flash of purple light, he disappeared from his spot.

The top student, expecting to land a decisive blow, found his sword cutting through empty air. Before he could react, Kintaro appeared behind him, moving with an ethereal swiftness. With a swift strike to the back of the head, Kintaro knocked the top student unconscious. The impact echoed through the hall, followed by a heavy silence.

As the dust settled, the training hall fell into a stunned silence. The strongest student lay on the ground, defeated, while Kintaro stood over him, his cheeks flushed with excitement and disbelief. He hadn't meant to use his mysterious power, but it had saved him.

"What just happened?" one of the students whispered.

"How did he do that?" another muttered.

The sensei marched over to Kintaro, his expression fierce. He snatched the wooden sword from Kintaro's hand. "You've been training in secret, haven't you?" he accused.

Kintaro shook his head, still dazed from the fight. "No, sensei, I haven't."

"Liar..." the sensei roared. "No one who has never held a sword could do what you just did. Leave... You are no longer welcome here."

Kintaro's heart sank, but he nodded and left the hall. As he walked down the wooden corridor, he looked at his hand, still tingling from the electricity. He remembered the thrill of the fight, the sense of power and control. He wanted more.

When the older student finally regained consciousness, he had no memory of how he lost the fight. The other students could only stare in awe and confusion, unable to comprehend what they had witnessed.

Kintaro stepped outside, the cool air hitting his flushed face. He had discovered something new about himself today, something powerful. He walked away from the training hall, his mind racing with thoughts of his newfound abilities and the path that lay ahead.

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