The swordmaster continued cheerily, his squeaky voice cutting through the stillness.
"Gon, I saw you throughout the tournament. You were nothing short of interesting and entertaining." He took a few steps forward, his faded gray tunic rustling softly as he moved closer to Gon.
The boy straightened instinctively, unsure whether the comment was praise or prelude to criticism.
The old man's eyes, sharp despite his age, seemed to peer straight through him, as though reading every doubt etched into Gon's tense expression.
The swordmaster paused just a foot away, his long, scruffy white goatee twitching as he smiled faintly.
"But," he added, his tone shifting to one of gentle admonishment, "it is obvious to any trained eye, you do not know how to use a sword." The words landed like a stone in Gon's gut, heavy and unyielding.
He opened his mouth to protest, but the swordmaster had already turned away, looping back toward the spot where his own sword rested on the ground.
